Dark Illumine
by SplashOfChaos
Summary: Finding dark creatures had always been her job, but Rose Weasley had never thought she would be considered one. Exiled to California, catapulted to a new reality, the Auror was just trying to reclaim what she did best, save people. Unfortunately, she didn't predict the two Winchester brothers and their tag-along angel.
1. Chapter 1

"_...Thou from the first _

_Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread _

_Dove-like sat'st brooding upon the vast abyss _

_And mad'st pregnant. What is in me is dark_

_Illumine, what is low raise and support…"_

Book I: Lines 19-23. _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter One

The light filled the corners of her mind, soft and white, like the pages of a new book. Every worry, every thought that had haunted her in consciousness slipped away as she stared, eyes wide open, into that welcoming bright abyss.

_"Opening…." _The voice said, or was it voices? She could not tell. They were sexless, beautiful, resonating like a gong in her mind rather than her ears.

"_…are coming…."_

"Who is coming?" She wished to shout, but her breath seemed to have vanished from her chest, and the words faded on her tongue.

"_Opening…" _ The voice repeated. The light…she couldn't decide if it was harsh or beautiful, warm or cold, menacing or….

"Weasley."

Her brow furrowed. Her name had been spoken, yet it didn't seem right. The voices had never _named _her before.

"Weasley!"

As suddenly as she had fallen asleep she awoke, her head jerking from the pillow of her arms. The whiteness had been replaced by the dim, yellow illumination of her cubicle, and the beautiful voices with that of her senior officer, Commander Alston. She stared drearily at him through lidded eyes as her brain scrambled to make the connection between reality and her existence. "Yes, sir?" She asked, words slurred with sleep.

His blue eyes seemed to cut right into her heart and she gulped, raising a hand to warily touch the copper wire birds' nest that was her hair.

"Another late night, Rose?" His tone, although gruff, was almost approving.

She squinted, glancing at the pile of papers she'd been sorting through just a few hours before. "I guess so sir."

His blue eyes narrowed over a graying, but neatly trimmed beard. "You look like something a hippogriff spat up. Good work."

Rose raised her eyebrows as she watched him walk away. "Thank you, Commander," she whispered, rubbing ink-stained hands over shadowed eyes. _ Back to work then. _She looked around the office, hoping that no others had caught her snoozing. Thankfully, she had kept herself in the almost unknown corner cubicle, disguising her presence with piles of books and scrolls that rivaled a large library. On the walls she had stuck pictures of creatures; from moving film captures to vague engravings she had copied from books. Snarling mouths and glowing red eyes looked at her from every direction, and Rose smiled, naming them in her head like old friends.

It was, after all, her profession.

Her eyes returned to the notes she had taken the night before, and immediately her mood fell. _Well, this was useless. _She thought, brushing an irritated finger over the messy scrawl that summed up her all-night work party. Merlin, she could not even remember half of what she had written about. _My mother always warned me that voluntary insomnia was not the secret to success. _

Rose sighed and vanished the pile into the bottom of the filing cabinet behind her, unwilling to give up her work if she needed it for later. Her cousins had called it 'data hoarding' but Rose liked to think of it as stock piling. Someday those early-morning messes would be the key to a case, or the missing piece to a mystery. Now if she could only decipher her handwriting…

"Auror Rose?" A high-pitched, yet still masculine voice drew her attention to the opening of her cubicle. She did not recognize the man, who was weedy and tall with corn-stalk hair and big grey eyes. He jumped a little at her gaze and cleared his throat nervously. His clothes were in a pristine state, the uniform of a black over robe and a muggle suit and tie carefully pressed. It screamed rookie, they always tried the hardest. In his hand was a red folder. Another case. Rose closed her eyes briefly before putting on her best smile while she tried to pretend she did not look like something Fluffy had chewed and spit out.

"Yes Auror…" she squinted at his name engraved on his badge. "Claudius?"

He handed her the red folder, thick with parchment. "Auror Inspector Potter told me to give this to you."

Rose nodded, and she flipped through the pages. Werewolf. Again. She would once again have to write an appeal to the Minister to sanction a bill that would fix the price of Wolfsbane potion. This was getting ridiculous. "Thank you Claudius," she mumbled as an afterthought, her brain already spinning on how best she could recommend the team to deal with the situation. Several minutes went by until she realized Auror Claudius was still standing by her door. "Yes?" She asked, flinching her tone of irritation.

Claudius cleared his throat again, making his Adam's apple bob rather prominently. _This kid is young. _Rose thought. _And I am only twenty-three. _

"It's just…." He blushed and looked at his toes. "I was wondering….what it would take to get on your team?"

Her team? She was just an advisor. Rarely did she deal with the situation herself. That was left up to the jocks in the lower offices, or at worst, the Hit Wizards. Sure there was a group of Aurors she dealt with the most, preferring their style of work over others but…"I don't have a team."

"They say you're the best, dealing with dark creatures I mean. I would like to get into it. Magical Creatures was my best subject, see…and, well…" His blushed deepened.

"This isn't flobberworms and unicorns, Claudius. We deal with real, furry threats. The kinds with claws and teeth that bite. The kind of things that most wizards won't find in books out of the restricted section at Hogwarts." And other things…things only she knew about, but hadn't encountered. Things that were so old, she assumed were extinct. _But there are always stories…._She drove the thought away.

Dark creatures had always been Rose's fascination in school, and the 'dark' part had driven her to the Aurors rather than the Department of Regulation. Her high grades had driven her through the Academy, but when it came to actually practicing what she had learned…Rose had come to a brick wall. Apparently being related in some way to the Potters had its benefits and downsides. The downsides being detained from the front lines. No one wanted to risk the precious heir of a legacy to some stupid werewolf. So she researched, and let the big boys handle the dangerous doggies.

Looking at the kid, her cold, bitter heart seemed to defrost. "I'll put in a recommendation," she waved the red folder. "Werewolf. A good one to start with, we will see how you do."

He grinned and bowed in a way that spoke of his pure-blood heritage. Rose gesticulated him to go away and turned around in her chair, shaking his head. _Twenty-three years old and already feeling ancient. What in Merlin's beard has this job done to me? _What being Auror always does. The mentors tried to warn them during the academy, but they had been too green, too filled with stories of the old days with Death Eaters and glory, when Harry Potter had swept the Ranks to become Auror Commissioner at twenty-seven like Merlin reborn. They didn't realize how _dark _it was out there. How many shadows actually lurked beyond the walls of Hogwarts.

There she went again. Her mother always scolded her for being cynical. "_Realistic." _She would usually correct. _But I wish I wasn't. _

Feeling the need to pull her thoughts from a black place, Rose reopened the folder, looking harder at what her cousin, James, had gifted her. All the dark creatures' cases went through her, no matter how small. Not only was it a way to validate their eventual actions, but it also lent the brunt of the paperwork to her shoulders.

It was, as she had told Auror Claudius, a werewolf case. It sometimes happened that some poor witch or wizard would forget their Wolfsbane dose and go furry on one of their neighbors, but that was usually handled by the Regulation department. What attracted the Aurors were patterns; long-term cases where behavior didn't add up to the occasional accident.

A small, muggle town in Scotland had been apparently been plagued with child deaths by 'wild animal attacks.' The muggle authorities always liked to chalk in up to feral dogs, as if that made any sense. It was clearly a werewolf, but an unusual one at that. The victims were too similar to be generalized intentional attacks, where some psycho would hole themselves outside a home and then go crazy-with-fangs on a poor family until morning. No, this had happened over several months, where small girls between the ages of six and eight would disappear from their beds, leaving only bloody paw prints behind. Without waking the rest of the family, or breaking a window, or busting down the locked door.

"Merlin's balls," Rose grumbled, slapping the folder shut. "He's using Wolfsbane." It made her sick…thinking about how someone, no matter the shape of their face, would consciously choose to eat another human being. It also made him ten times more difficult to deal will. A normal werewolf could be controlled; fooling it like one would fool an animal into a trap. A murderous wolf with all of his cognitive functions was unprecedented.

Rose tried to ignore the spurt of glee in her gut when she realized _she_ would have to take deal with this one. There was no way she could tell a team how to deal with a situation they had never met before with just a school-grade lecture. Rose would have there, in the line of fire in order to direct their actions. Rose gave into her excitement, and grinned. _Uncle is not going to like this one._

* * *

"Absolutely not," Harry muttered, his emerald-green eyes glinting dangerously over his familiar round frames. His hair had faded gracefully into a dark, pepper grey, and the lines about his eyes were more from laughter than hardship. But Rose's uncle was not laughing at that moment.

Rose bit her lip in frustration, holding back a loud curse. James was leaning against the wall behind her, an easy grin frozen on his handsome face. Beside the brown hair, James had taken after closely to his mother. He had her lanky build and deep brown eyes, as well as her skill in hexes with a brilliant sense of humor. He had easily climbed his way through the ranks of the Aurors, making Auror Inspector at the age of twenty-four. He was the one who passed Creature Cases to Rose's expertise, and who she had asked for support when she proposed her decision to join the hunt that evening to the Auror Commissioner.

"It is not a negotiation," Harry cut in, as if sensing an argument brewing. "You are not allowed on the front lines."

"I _need _to be. I am the only witch here who could sufficiently deal with this situation."

"And how is that? What make you the only one who could deal with this?" Harry asked.

Rose opened her mouth to shoot back a reply, something clever, but the words would not come to her tongue. Why was she special? Her team was the best of the best when dealing with Dark Creatures, she had chosen and honed their skills herself, teaching them probably more facts on the things they would be hunting than they needed, or cared, to know. Surely a simple serial killing werewolf would be a small problem compared to vampires, dementors, and acromantulas.

_I'm bored. _Rose realized. She wanted the adventure the green rookie in her craved so much, feel the cutting edge of danger and the exhilaration that came with risking her life. _I was just looking for an excuse to do something besides sit around and read. I am a Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw. I am a soldier, not a researcher. Why can no one understand how bored I am? _Three years Rose had camped out in her cubicle, learning everything she could on Dark creatures and passing the problems onto those who fixed them. Now the wells of curiosity had dried up…her resignation of her place fading to agitation. Rose just wanted to _do _something for once; and Uncle Harry had come to this conclusion, as always, five steps ahead of her.

"Exactly," Harry replied, "We had an arrangement when you took your position, Auror Sergeant Weasley, and we will not deviate from it despite your whims. I with authorize your team's mission tonight, see that you take no part in it beside the basic preliminaries. Your _job._"

Rose slammed the office door when she left, fuming. The cubicles quieted as the Aurors turned in their seats to look at her with same expressions of curiosity and bewilderment. Rose ignored them as she stomped down the enlarged room to her own cubicle.

James followed her, the grin falling from his face. He watched her as she mumbled under her breath, slamming folders and books shut before sliding heavily into her seat.

"Nice temper tantrum," he commented.

Rose glared up at him with her mother's chocolate-brown eyes. Everything about her was Hermione Granger, from the shape of her jaw to the slight build she had tried so hard to bulk up. Only the dark red hair spoke of any sort of Weasley in her. Too bad it had the tendency to curly into a messy bushy-ness.

James held out both his hands in defense. "You can't tell me it wasn't."

"I know," Rose sighed, hiding her face with her hands. "I need to stop this, James. I can't do…this anymore."

"I thought you liked research."

"I do, I do," Rose shook her head. "But it's _all _I do lately. I have used nothing I learned in the Academy, and it's all going to waste, all that effort and work because Uncle made some deal with Mum or Da."

"You don't know that. Maybe he thinks this is where you would be best."

"Where I will be _safest _you mean. James…kids _years _younger than me are being let into the field. Why not me?" She removed her hands and pleaded at him with her eyes. "Some help you were. You are in charge of the mission tonight. You are the only one who could find some sort of loophole in prison your father has built for me."

"Dramatic, that's what you are," James groaned. "Fine. But you are staying out of the line of fire. Behind the shields, do you understand? My arse is on the line if something happens to you."

"Merlin forbid something happen to your arse," Rose muttered as he walked away.

"What was that?" James called.

"Nothing!" She sang sweetly, staring at an etching of a werewolf from the 1700's tacked to the wall. Under her gaze the reddened eyes flared and its snout shifted with a suggestion of emotion. The wolf was almost…smiling at her.

A/N: This is my first story under this name, and my first cross-over. I have loved Harry Potter for a long time, but Supernatural is quite new to me. I would like to warn those who are reading this- it won't be a short-and-sweet ride. I like to build my characters as well as my plot, so it may take on the length of a medium-sized novel before I consider it completed. Thank you for reading. –SplashOfChaos


	2. Chapter 2

_"With ambitious aim/_

_Against the throne and Monarchy of God/_

_Raised Impious war in heaven and battle proud/_

_With vain attempt." _

Book I: lines 41-4 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Two

The sky was clear when Rose apparated into the designated area that night. The full moon in all of its silvery glory lit up the lonely Scottish moor, painting it in pale contrast to the dark sky. A few miles away the small town of Clensdale tried vainly to compete with its light, but the yellow glow was barely noticeable.

The team had already arrived in full combat regalia. Their leather over coats shimmered with protective charms, and the white unicorn embroidered on their left arm was a clear indication of their purpose.

Rose herself had abandoned the muggle day-wear in favor of her familiar dark pants, dragon-skin boots and white linen shirt. Her uniform over coat was buttoned and belted to protect her chest, but it flared around her legs. Some wizards preferred the more traditional robes, however Rose felt they constricted her movement, and then there was the constant fear of being hoisted in the air by her ankle to show the world her more intimate garments.

There was a certain degree of ambiguity among the ranks of the team, the dark coats blending into the shadows until they looked like one lifeless blob. Only the distinct white sigma above the unicorns on their arm gave them any rank.

James cleared his throat at the sight of her and gestured for Rose to approach. She nodded, wary of speaking in the nearly silent environment. The Aurors moved aside, with her wing-like stripes on her arm she outranked them, but it was James, with two diamonds, that was her superior and thus the Auror in charge of the mission. It was funny, how a little symbol on the arm could hold so much power over another.

"Auror Sergeant Weasley." James greeted formally in a low voice.

"Auror Inspector." Rose greeted back. "I want to thank you."

"Accepted." James gestured to the map on the table in front of him. "What can you tell us?"

Rose pointed to a single square on the map, a small house set apart from the others at the edge of town. "Missy Briggs, eight years old, blonde. She will be his next victim." Rose glanced at the full face of the moon. "He will strike at one thirty. The door to the house is unlocked; I suspect carried out before his transformation. Usually he will wait in some sort of shed or structure behind the house." She tapped the map and the Briggs home sprang up in three-dimensional glory, as well as the surrounding landscape. She smiled, recognizing her cousin's magical signature. "Albus really out did himself this time."

"What can I say; my brother is a bloody genius." James shrugged.

Rose knew; she had helped the small, dark-haired man with the runic work that would allow flexibility in the maps positioning. Five stones, placed in a specific pattern around a geographic area of three miles, would produce a sort of resonating affect, allowing a complete image of the area encapsulated. Rose wasn't really sure how the magic worked, but the runes she had developed for the project had been so complicated that it had given her a headache for a week.

She examined the map and pointed to a grove of evergreens in the back of the house, small, obviously planted in the last decade, but the thick foliage would mask existence even the largest werewolf. "There. He'll be there."

"Good." James gave a sharp nodded to a near-by Auror who passed on the message. "Any further advice?"

_Don't get bitten. _Rose wanted to say, her eyes flashing with worry. "He will be in control of all of his thoughts, treat him like a wizard, but don't get to close the claws…for obvious reasons." She handed him a packet of power from her pocket. "This is silver dust, take it."

"I thought silver didn't have an effect on werewolves."

"It doesn't. But it absorbs] magic more than most metals. The bag is the really important part. Get this in his lungs and it will paralyze him for the rest of the night."

James muttered "_Lumos," _and examined the runes she had burned into the leather pouch. "You say Al is the genius…." He smiled. "What happens if we inhale this by accident?"

Rose furrowed her eyebrows. "Nothing," she replied in confusion. "It only works against werewolves." _Doesn't he have any idea how runes work? I thought he got a NEWT in that class. _

"Of course, thanks cousin." James hefted the bag and flashed a smile. "Stay inside the wards."

"Yes, mother." Rose replied, a smirk on her face. She watched as James directed the team to disapparate, leaving her on the cold Scottish moor alone.

Rose tapped the map and it disappeared back into its two-dimensional state. The actual map was made from some kind of hide…and she recognized the runes underneath the ghostly images of the town as the ones she had given Albus all those months before. He had a unique gift in seeing the potential for magic, an inventor of sorts turned Auror that had developed more useful objects for the Department than all the Unspeakables combined. Nevertheless he turned to her when it came to researching and developing Runic magic.

It was a hobby that had turned into a passion during her last year at Hogwarts, when the Ancient Runes professor had asked for a final project. Most of her peers had done the obvious, sewing runes into clothing for protective or good luck measures. Rose had been stumped for ideas, researching old practices in the library, hoping to look for a project that could be both unique and impressive. It was in the restricted section that she had found something of a crossover between Ancient Runes and Dark creatures. A blade forged of purified steel, burned with runes at every fold, developed by a Vampire hunter in archaic Germania during the second century. It had earned no more than a mere mentioning in the text, but it had sparked Rose's curiosity.

It was well documented that the goblins used runes to hold magic in steel, such as the Sword of Gryffindor that hung in the office of Professor Longbottom. It also served as a signature, making it easily indefinable to those of the same magical affinity, or sparked loyalty within the object toward its creator.

The use of Runes had faded within the magical community as the art of understanding had died with the old ways. Most preferred temporary charms that were profitable in the commercial world, for they would fade in a few months or years, forcing the buyer to buy again. Runes, if used correctly, had the potential to be extremely powerful, and hold magic in the most subtle way for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The common application of runes involved embroidering them in fabric, but the result was as equally weak. For the act simply preserved a charm, rather than twisting the magic itself.

Rose had studied for weeks on the practice of molding magic, driving herself nearly ill with the combination of her obsession and the stress of the upcoming NEWTs. A week before the final was due, it had suddenly clicked. Suddenly, runes became more than just scratches on a paper that she had to muddle through to read, she could _understand _their properties and purposes. Rose learned that the act of drawing runes did not bend magic, bending magic created runes.

That week she stayed up for several nights in a spare potions laboratory, forging a blade of pure steel into the rough form of a dagger. Every time she would fold the red-hot blade, she would twist the magic around it, sealing the wrinkle with its specific rune, as one would pound wire flat into its desired design. To bend and hold magic was exhausting, as she had to use her own core to supply the power.

The result was not a beautiful work of art. Apparently forging steel was as delicate as bending magic, and required just as much skill. It was slightly curved, and vaguely resembled the athame used in some Asian magical cultures by Healers. The runes were not visible, layered within the metal and would only appear when it was being used for its intended purposes. The steel itself was smoky, from her rather clumsy forging skills, and the leather hilt had been less than skillfully designed.

Bringing the knife to her Professor had been a nervous experience. The others had their runes cheerfully displayed on their scarfs or hats. One boy had even layered a wallet with anti-theft sigils. Her blade looked grim in comparison.

Her Professor had called her after class and asked her to explain her project. She had stuttered through her research, describing the runes she had used to give the blade power with hand gestures. It had been rather confusing, as many styles had been used. Rose had taken runes from whatever corner of the world she could, as her magic had not been very culturally selective in the forms it took when she bent it to her will.

Her professor had listened to her quietly with a patient gaze, and when she stuttered to a stop he had pressed the dagger into her hand and asked her to demonstrate what it could to. Rose refused, and in shame explained that the blade would simply kill.

"Every dagger can kill, Rose." He had responded. "But a dagger with its own mind can learn to get past any armor to do what it was made to do. A very powerful weapon you've made, and an excellent application and integration of what I have attempted to teach you in class, but an also an object of very dangerous potential. I trust that you will do the right thing, and melt it down."

Rose had agreed to do what he asked, but when it had come time to fulfill her promise, she had only seen the work she had put into the blade, and everything she had learned from it. Instead she had packed it away its sheath, determined to never show again the fullness of what it was.

Daggers were not an unusual sight among the Auror ranks, so keeping it at her side was not a target for gossip. Wizards rarely resorted to physical combat, but occasional one would need to act in the absence of a wand.

Thinking back on her first real encounter with bending magic with runes, Rose touched the lumpy hilt of her old creation. It hung from the belt at her side, on the opposite hip of her wand. She had never felt the need to use it, but felt safer and more complete with it nonetheless.

As she stared at the map in front of her, she heard the faint howl of the wolf, and her heart leapt in her chest. _They found him. _Rose thought, bile in her throat. She kept her eyes pinned to the map, not wanting to look in the direction of that eerie noise. Almost unconsciously she traced the path of the previous kills. Determining the next victim had been as simple as glancing at a map. The attacks had happened in a two miles radius, in almost complete circle of homes. All she had to do was figure out which houses in that radius fit the wolf's MO. Missy Briggs was the last eight year old to still live in that specific area.

The wolf howled again, and her fingers twitched toward her wand. Her eyes flashed through the dim, muscles tense, as she convinced herself to remain where she was. Every instinct was driving her into the night, into the hunt. _I can't. _Rose bit her lip and turned away. _James said to stay here, and that is what I am doing. Stay inside the wards, where you cannot be hurt. _She gritted her teeth. _As if I cannot take care of myself. I received a NEWT in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and no one has read more books about werewolves than me. _

The sound of the wards popping ripped her from her thoughts. Rose's head shot up, breath catching as she saw the dark figure in the horizon slump over to the ground. Her feet were moving before she could evaluate the situation, and she slid to her knees at the fallen wizard's side, her over coat billowing out behind her.

The man was barely breathing, his face covered in blood. She turned his neck to feel for a pulse, recognizing his features as Alexander Ross, a senior Auror of twenty years. He was bleeding from several places and a quick analysis spell told her of three broken rips and a fractured femur.

Alexander's lips were moving, and Rose recognized the words 'Portkey.'

_Of course. _She searched through his pockets to find the small muggle penny they kept on their persons at all times. It was a direct link to St. Mungo's. She pressed in into his hand. "Alexander." She said, gripping his shoulder hard. "Auror Ross. What has happened?"

His words were barely a breath, and Rose leaned her ear against his lips. "Dead." He whispered. "All dead."

In a flash he was gone, leaving her alone on the windy Scottish moor. In the sky above, the face of the moon seemed almost mocking.

Rose felt frozen. She knew she should contact the headquarters, to call in for back up…but she hesitated. Rose could very well be leading more Aurors to die without knowing how something so basic as a werewolf could cause a senior Auror to claim the team was dead.

"James is going to kill me." Rose whispered, before grasping her wand and turning on her heel.

She arrived just outside the house where Missy Briggs lived. The windows were dark, and the home looked relatively undisturbed. The evergreen trees had been marked with curse burns. There was no sign of James, the werewolf, or the rest of the Aurors.

"_Lumos." _Rose whispered, casting her light into the shadows. She walked through the trees, conscious of the soft rustling sound the needles made against her robe. Her boots squelched in the morning dew. It was quiet. _Too quiet. _Where was the werewolf? Rose wondered, her heart pounding frantically in her chest.

A crack resounded behind her and she turned suddenly, her foot catching on a root and sending her tumbling the ground. Her face hit the wet grass, and only when she scrambled to her feet did she realize the dampness was not from dew at all, but blood. Dark blood that shimmered in the moonlight and the fading illumination of her wand. She attempted to wipe the mess off her cheek with her sleeve, only to find that she was practically covered in the stuff.

She moved her wand frantically over the ground, trying to discover the source of the mess. It became too plain that the trees held more than roots and rabbits underneath their broths. Her team lay in the shade, pale faces and blank eyes looking up at the sky. Her mind clicked into overdrive and she attempted to suppress her panic. _James. _She thought, ignoring the bodies of her dead comrades around her. _James isn't in these trees. _ He must have gone after the werewolf, it finish the job once and for all. _I need to go after him. _

Rose's mind flew frantically back to the map, to the circle of victims, and at its center, a cluster of buildings. _A tavern. _She remembered. _A flower shop and a grocer. _Before she had time to reconsider her actions her body had turned, and she landed with a slight pop just outside the bar.

The noise was almost shocking. She had been surrounded by such eerie silence and the neon glare and rowdy noises of the tavern hit her like a rampaging Pegasus. Blinking she looked out into the street, hoping that the muggles in the pub had remained unaffected by the horror in the shadows.

A quick search of the premise gave her nothing, and Rose swore, stamping her foot on the ground. She had been wrong…again. _This time James might be the one lying bloody on the ground. _Her heart wrenched at the memory of her team, good witches and wizards all, but she quickly stored her grief away. Aurors died in the field, it was something Rose figured she would have to come to terms with sooner or later.

_Maybe more made it to St. Mungo's. I hadn't counted, please Merlin let it be so. _Of course, that might have meant she was alone against the wolf. James could be very well lying in a hospital bed by now. _How could a wolf do all of this damage? We have trained for werewolves, they are nothing we haven't seen and fought before. _None of them had used Wolfsbane-that was true. Rose had known this mission would be dangerous; she had still underestimated their assailant.

Shaking her head the witch turned back into the night, the streets glowing blue and red with the lights of the pub. Just as suddenly, a flash flew by her face, brushing back her hair and slamming into the wall of the building behind her. Rose dove out of the way, rolling as she hit the ground and getting to her feet quickly, wand up and ready.

Her eyes searched the alley ways of the street, and upon a slight movement she blasted off a stunning spell. It was blocked, sending it into the road where it dented the asphalt.

Her dueler stepped out into the open, muggle clothes contrasting the cloak around his shoulders. At his side, a wolf padded, its jaws soaked with blood. The tuft of the tail and the thickness of its snout revealed its species almost immediately.

"Fuck." Rose growled. The werewolf had been working with another all along. A caretaker perhaps, one willing to unlock doors to little girls' houses so the beast could steal them from their bends. A wizard who would lock the door behind their crime, making it seem as if a ghost had done the deed.

It also explained her dead comrades. A wolf could not have caught them by surprise, but they had not moved into place expecting a wand wielding wizard.  
"I thought I dealt with you all." The wizard said, tilting his head, as if puzzled by her existence. Under his hood, he had very pale skin and dark hair. "Never mind, I always liked epic conclusions."

"Monster." Rose spat, lifting her wand. "How could you do that to little girls? You'll never see outside Azkaban for this."

"I've always liked little girls." The wizard grinned. His free hand patted the top of the wolf's head. It growled. "And my wife here was so willing to oblige to getting them for me. Too bad they never lasted long. Their wounds you see. Muggles don't do well to werewolf bites."

Rose decided it was enough. "_Stupefy!" _She shouted, flicking her wand.

The wizard blocked it and the wolf lunged across the street at Rose. She rolled out of the way, and found herself between the pair, a growling wolf on one side, and a murderous wizard on the other. _Protego. _She thought, and the wizard's orange curse crashed against her shield. Before Rose could retaliate the wolf sprung again, forcing Rose to back up against the wall beside the entrance to the pub. She could hear the televisions on, and hoped that none of the muggles would see what was sure to be a gruesome scene.

A cutting hex passed through the werewolf without a thought, and Rose kicked out, catching the ensuing beast in the side. It yelped, rolling backwards to the feet of her husband. The wizard snarled, and Rose was once again forced to shield.

Flashes of energy pulsed menacingly around her, breaking her shields fast as she could put them up; ever was the growling of the wolf, snapping at her heels, forcing her to slide against the wall in an attempt to offer some space between them.

A split second was all it took to have Rose's hand slip, and she was lying flat against the sidewalk, her wand clattering across the road. She groaned, and pressed a hand against her chest where the curse had struck. It ached dully, the brunt of the damage having been absorbed by the runes sewn into her robes. She could feel the locks breaking, the magic unwinding. Whatever protection the runes had provided slipped away as the thread holding the pattern was destroyed.

Above her the wizard and his wolf-wife loomed, grins on their faces. "I know you missed your dinner, dear." The wizard chuckled and gestured toward Rose. "Why don't you feast?"

Rose made a small noise in her throat and scrambled backwards on her elbows, pain blooming in her ribs as she did. The werewolf licked its chops in a rather dramatic gesture, and moved toward Rose, saliva dripping from its blood-red tongue.

_No. _Rose thought, and she stopped trying to get away. There was no way she was going to lie down and submit to being eaten. That was not the way she was going out. Her gloved hand found the dagger at her waist and she drew it, the metal making a ringing noise against its sheath.

The wizard laughed. "You think my wife will be fazed by a little pig-sticker like yours? She's a werewolf you jar-headed bitch."

The wolf leapt, and Rose surged to meet it, her knife out. She felt the hot breath and the pinch of claws before her hand was buried in the creature's chest, hot blood spurting from the wound like a fountain. The animal gave a tremendous howl before slumping to the side, still. Rose pulled the knife out and found her feet. The runes on the dagger glowed white before disappearing into the dusky interior. She faced the wizard, baring her teeth.

He stared wide eyed at the dead werewolf, his jaw flapping. Rose collected her wand and disarmed the man, binding him tight before she stunned him into unconsciousness.

Slumping against a wall Rose let her breath out, and her mind calm. She needed to call in the incident, needed back up and a retrieval team…needed to do something, to keep moving. But at that moment, Rose found she could do nothing at all. James was missing. She hoped he was at St. Mungo's, and that she had not overlooked his body in the grove of trees. The wolf was dead and its partner was in control. She…Rose looked down at her upper left arm where the wolf had clawed her. The wounds were deep and in much need of healing. They would leave scars, certainly, but it would not change her. Only the bite of a werewolf could turn a human.

She returned to the warded circle, and called in the incident. She placed the body of the wolf on the ground and laid her prisoner next to it. She hoped that the wizard…whatever his name might be…would remain unconscious. Rose thought she might be sick if she heard the sound of his voice.

The Aurors were quick on arrival and took care of the situation immediately, removing the bodies of her four fallen team members, four of ten, which was slightly reassuring, and collected the prisoner and dead werewolf. Claudius, the young, stuttering wizard, had been among the fallen. She was silent through the ordeal, not speaking until her uncle arrived on the scene, disapproval in his facial expression.

"Auror Weasley." He gruffed, motioning her to follow him. They stepped outside the ward circle, away from the others.

"Uncle. Is James…?"

"He is alright. He will heal." The stoniness of Harry's voice spoke bounds about his current state. Rose usually observed her Uncle's hot temper and rarely his cold. The former was louder, but the latter was far more frightening.

"You were not supposed to be here." Harry continued. "And when you were, you left your post, you forgo calling for support in a blatant disregard from your superior's orders and decided to rush into the fray without backup, endangering your life as well as possibly, the lives of others. It was both irresponsible and immature."

Rose bowed her head. "I know." _At least James is alright; at least six are still alive. _

"If you were anyone else, you would lose your job. Be thankful I hold family in high regard. Tomorrow, you will need to see me in my office. Tonight, I need to clean up this mess."

Rose watched him stalk away with a heavy heart. He was right. She should have called it in when Alexander first fell through the wards, or when she saw the dead amongst the trees. James had left her in the wards for that purpose, to hold home ground, and she had failed him. If she had not been so rash, had decided to stay home instead of butt into the mission like an eager rookie, James might have assigned another to her position, an Auror that would have probably done their job-followed procedure, and…_not have caught the werewolf. _With the team dead or in the hospital, the wizard and wolf would have gone free, free to kill more little girls for some sick, twisted pleasure.

"Maybe he'll see that." Rose whispered to the moon. It remained silent.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to all those who have been reading an reviewing, as well as those who are currently following this story. If you are wondering where or how Supernatural will come into the plot, just hang tight. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

_Farewell, happy fields /_

_Where joy forever dwells: hail horrors, hail /_

_Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell /_

_Receive__ thy new __possessor..._

Book I: Lines 249-52 _Paradise Lost_ by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Three

Rose hated hospitals. She deeply disliked the way they smelled, the harsh, white lighting, and the blank faces the nurses held when she passed them in the halls. Her palms were sweating as they clutched the bundle of red and gold flowers. Gryffindor colours, James's favorite.

Of course, James wasn't the type to like flowers, but Rose was unable to come up with anything else to bring him.

Reaching the fourth floor, Spell Damage, Rose turned into the nearest room, which had been sectioned off by large white curtains. James was in the last bed, near the window, and his side table had already become occupied by many types of floral arrangements. Rose wasn't surprised; her cousin was young, handsome, and powerful. He had many admirers.

"James." She said softly, jerking the man from his daydreams. His liquid brown eyes stared at her intensely as she lay her offering next to the others.

"Rose." He said, cracking a grin. "Good to see you weren't eaten."

Relief flooded through her, but she tried not to let it show. "Almost." She replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be alright. I took a couple of hits, nothing I can't get over." His smile was beginning to fade as he shifted in his bed, wincing as he pulled at his bandages. His hand appeared from under the blanket, in it the small leather pouch she had given him before the mission. "Never got close enough to use it. I figure you'd want it back."

"Keep it. I won't need it where I am going." Rose finally had the nerve to sit down in the visitor's chair by the bed.

"I heard." James was solemn, a rare occurrence. "Dad wasn't too hard on you, was he?"

"I deserved it. I'm just thankful I still have my badge. You aren't getting in trouble for this, are you?"

"Technically the paperwork was signed off by you. I was just the field leader." His words were heavy with regret. "Doesn't make it any less my fault, what happened. You shouldn't have been the scapegoat in this."

"A pureblood died, James. Someone had to take the brunt of the fall. I'm glad it was me, I was asking for it." Rose's hands clenched in her lap. "And it wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"You could have never have known…."

"It was my job to know." She cut in angrily. "And I failed. I failed because I was too self-centered to do my job properly and that's what got four men killed and six in the hospital. Maybe your dad should have fired me. Aurors have been let go for less."

James didn't answer. Maybe he realized she was right. And that hurt more than anything. _I don't want to be right. _

"I heard you killed the wolf." James said after a long pause. "How are you feeling?"

"It was just a wolf." Rose said, but she knew what he meant. Underneath the monster skin there had been a human being; an evil, malicious human being, but human nonetheless. She had snuffed out that life, not with a wand, but with her own hands, or close to. "I am alright." There was a cold spot in her, emptiness in the emotions she probably should have felt over her first kill.

James knew she was lying, and Rose was grateful when he said nothing. She sat for an hour at his bedside, mostly silent as they stared out the window to the London city below, both knowing it was probably goodbye.

* * *

California. Rose would never have predicted that the place would ever hold significance in her life. Merlin, Rose hadn't realized that there was a magical community that far west.

She tapped her wand against the door handle of her flat, located somewhere east of London. Rose had never been very sure what the name of the town was, and had never actually spent enough time there to care. The living area was stacked high with the material from her cubicle at work, books, scrolls, posters of dark creatures. She would have to sort through it sometime in the next week, however the job seemed so exhausting Rose continued to push it down on the 'to do' list.

Her clothes were packed away in her old school trunk, her books in a bag her mother had given her for Christmas that held a lot more than it looked. The walls had been stripped bare, the fridge was empty, and she was ready to leave.

Rose pushed a few boxes from one side of her sofa and slumped down, tilting her head to look up at the ceiling. _Mum, Da. _They had been…disappointed, when they heard of her forced reassignment. Her father had long moved away from his position in the Auror department, instead choosing a cushy job in the Regulation for Magical Sports, concentrating on Quidditch. Her mother had semi-retired a half a decade before, choosing instead to focus on her research, which was often published in the leading historical journals and _Transfiguration Today. _

They did not yell, when she had flooed them with the news. They had both looked at her with blank faces, letting her stew in emotions of shame and guilt before speaking. It had infuriated Rose that her mother had not shouted, or sworn or even thrown things at her suspended head. Instead, Hermione had ben coldly logical, asking her when Rose left, and if she needed any help packing. Rose supposed her uncle had already contacted them with the news before she could work up the nerve to.

_A recommended reassignment, he had called it; an opportunity to grow in a new environment. _She had accepted, knowing the alternative was resignation, and if there was anything Rose was unwilling to do was give up the badge she worked so hard for. _An advisory position in California, working with the Federal Bureau of Magical Investigations. _Apparently Great Britain had a better education on Dark Creatures…being one of the oldest and largest organized magical societies in the world. In any other situation Rose admitted she probably would have been delighted with the offer. _Yet this feels too cold. _Harry had not even given her a date for when she would return. _An indefinite relocation, he'd said. _

_ I may never come back._

* * *

The day before she had booked her muggle plane ticket to leave, there was a knock on the door. She looked up from spelling her work boxes closed, dread in her heart. She didn't want to talk to her brother, who had sent a letter condoning her behavior, nor did she really wish to speak to her mother, father, or uncles.

Rose sighed and went to the door. Her copper hair had been pulled into a messy pony tail, her customary robes discarded for a worn pair of muggle jeans and a loose t-shirt. Most of her clothes had been packed away already.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the pale face of her cousin, Albus, on the other side. His green eyes lit up at the sight of her and his face burst into a warm grin. "Cousin Rose, how are you?"

"Cousin Albus, I am doing very well, you?"

"Very well." He lifted a paper bag. "I come bearing gifts."

Rose grinned and stepped aside to let him through. He went to the hardwood table and put the bag down. Rose pulled out a Butterbeer and handed it to him. He nodded appreciatively taking a sip before setting it down and reaching to his bag. The first thing he pulled out was a grey canvas backpack.  
"What is it?" Rose asked.

"The best expansion charm you will ever lay your eyes on. If you needed to, you could fit your whole life inside this bag. I also included some heavy anti-theft runes and loyalty charms. You won't be able to get in a fifty mile radius without this popping up at your side."

"Merlin, Albus. How long did it take you to make this?" She asked, picking it up and tracing the runic burn marks around the leather straps.

"A couple of months. Honestly it was more an experiment than anything, hence the style. Thought you might like it." He eyed the inside of his bag before reaching his whole arm in, pulling out a small metal cage.

Rose raised her eyebrows as she bent over to peer at the occupant, a slightly ruffled gray-and-black hawk owl. It blinked at her with yellow eyes, hooting. "You didn't carry the poor thing in that bag with you this whole time?"

"He's fine." Albus scoffed. "Just a complainer. You didn't have one, so I thought it would be a nice way to keep in touch. The shop keeper said his breed was particularly reliable. Hunt in both night and day you see."

Rose smiled and gave her cousin a hug. "Thank you, it's really too much."  
"Not really." Albus said, suddenly somber. "I thought you would need a little pick-me-up, you know? The whole situation is absolutely rubbish."

Rose sighed and let the owl out of his cage. It flew to the top of her cabinets and looked much less annoyed. "They are covering expenses. Traveling the muggle way may be convenient, but it's really expensive. I have more than enough saved up from my salary to cover years of light living."

Albus eyed the flat. "I suppose the most you buy is books. And I would put anything particularly valuable in that pack if I were you. I don't trust muggle travel, always misplacing things."

"It will certainly save on space. How is the weight?"

"As light as a feather, you will hardly know anything is in there."

"You could make thousands selling these things."

Albus scoffed. "That's not their purpose. Amazingly hard to replicate…I was never able to bend the magic with runes like you, cousin. But that should be sufficient."

"More than you think." Rose held out her arm and the owl landed on it. He was light, for such a large bird. "What should I call you?"

* * *

Nelson, California was a small town nestled against the side of a forest consisting of giant redwoods and old growth oaks. The story was it been a logging village before the Great Depression, but the industry collapsed as the owners of the local mill invested in the wrong markets, losing everything.

The town survived by turning inward, becoming introverted to the rest of the world. The old mill was taken over by a company that may or may not have exported textiles. No one, not even the mayor of Nelson, was very sure what the company did, and no one could pin point who actually _worked _at the mill either.

Yet the town was very unbothered by its existence, as it was kept in good shape and always made a Christmas donation to the local library.

_Housing will be provided. _Harry had said. _They never said they would buy me a house. _Rose stared at the little ranch at the edge of town. It had a gray roof and white siding, very ambiguous compared to the cheerfully kept blue and yellow neighbors. She contemplated knocking on the door, but it swung open at her barest touch to reveal a sparsely accessorized kitchen, living room, two bedrooms and a bath. They had proved her with furniture, but it seemed so bare without pictures on the wall, or the usual muggle television by the window. _This is how most American wizard and witches live. _A vaguely muggle lifestyle, with electronics disabled to prevent electrical surges, and muggle repelling wards to keep nosey neighbors out in suburban communities. It was all sort of depressing.

Rose sighed and dropped her pack on the table. It hooted quietly and she gritted her teeth. "Merlin, London, I'm sorry." She pulled the owl's cage out and placed it on the table. He glared at her with bright yellow eyes before tapping the lock of the cage with his beak. Rose unlatched it, and he flew to the top of the faux refrigerator. "I hope the flight wasn't too stressful."

Unpacking seemed to Rose too daunting a task to attempt that night. She made the bed and curled up quietly, listening to the silence. The house was nice enough, Rose supposed, but it was not home. Putting her things in anything but home felt revolting.

_It's not like the bag weighs anything anyway. _Rose reasoned as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Three days later Rose found herself standing outside a large white building made of cinderblocks with her pack. The door was red, and the only windows where positioned high up on the walls, too tall for most to look through. She knocked gently, feeling a bit nervous. She recognized the feel of the protective charms around the place, which were as powerful and well-made as anything she encountered back home.

She had apparated from her house, not willing to walk through the streets of muggle Nelson looking ready for battle of a medieval kind. When the door opened to show a similarly clad man with silvery hair and deep blue eyes, Rose was relieved she had at least chosen the correct attire. Some in the Ministry spoke of American wizards that _never _wore robes.

"Auror Weasley?" He asked his voice gruff.

"Yes sir." She bowed, keeping her arms close to her side. "Are you Agent Henley?"

"Yes ma'am. Why don't you come in?" He stepped aside and as Rose passed through the door she felt the wards bend over her skin. No one of harmful intent could pass through the wards without a direct and positive invitation. The force was so strong it nearly took her breath away.

_These wizards really know what they are doing. _Rose thought, very impressed. The interior of the mill was completely different from the exterior. It opened to a wide lobby with gleaming wooden floors and green painted walls, hung with moving pictures of Presidents long past. The front desk was occupied by a smiling woman in azure robes that matched her eyes. She did not as much as blink when Rose walked past.

"Glamour?" Rose reasoned, surprised.

"Fools the muggles if they are curious enough." They passed through another pair of doors and heavy wards. Revealed was a wide office space. At the far wall a series of doors that led to what Rose assumed were offices. In the middle was a table and chairs, whereas the surrounding walls hosted several desks decorated with wanted posters, newspaper clippings, and maps strung with red twine.

_Looks like home. _Rose mused, an unwilling smile spreading across her face. It was occupied by ten or so different agents, some old, and some young. They looked up as she passed, but barely gave her a second notice as Agent Henley led her to an office.

It was bare, with just a desk and office chair. Windows overlooked the thick green of the forest.

"This is where you will be working, do with it as you may." He sighed. "The previous foreigner we had here, French, didn't last long."

"Comforting." Rose murmured. "Is that everyone stationed here?"

"The states are a bit bigger than your merry old England, Auror Weasley. Our departments are broken up to regulate the most highly concentrated magical regions of this country."

"I thought there wasn't a community around here?"

Henley shrugged, and pointed out into the forest. "This is a very old forest, Weasley. There was a reason the logging industry did not last long here. The things within those trees will surprise you."

Rose was beginning to sense his disapproval of her presence. _The previous one didn't last long. _How many had died fighting the monsters in that forest? Apparently, Agent Henley didn't think much of her.

"I think I might surprise you too, Agent."

He looked her over with a critical eye. "I heard about the incident that brought you here. True you killed a werewolf with a knife? Thought they were immune to that kind of thing."

Unconsciously Rose's fingers found the hilt of her dagger. "It was a special kind of knife."

"Hmm." He turned, waving an equivocal hand at the office. "Get unpacked; we have a meeting at the table in ten minutes."

"Yes sir."

* * *

It took her five to unload her posters and books into the awaiting wall space and shelves. A handy spell automatically sorted the tomes to her specifications, and sticking charms had teeth and red eyes once again grinning down at her. Rose marveled that she had her own office with an actual desk and a door to work (and sleep) behind without being interrupted.

A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts. It opened without her response, a small man with a big grin peeking in. "Hi!" He said, pushing the rest of the way through. In one hand was clutched a stemming mug. "Coffee?"

Rose blinked in surprise. "Um, sure?" She took the offered drink and sipped, shuddering at the bitter taste. She tried to place it on the desk as discreetly as possible. "Thank you."

"I'm Agent Daren; I'll be working with you on the Eyes case."

Rose frowned in confusion. "Eyes…?"

Agent Daren was a short man with brown hair and eyes. Underneath his leather over coat he wore a sharp muggle suit with a blue and red tie. He stretched out his hand, a smile on his face. Rose took it, noticing that his hand, despite their almost equal height, dwarfed hers. "Here," a beige folder replaced his hand. "We will cover the preliminaries in the briefing, but it's mostly your responsibility." Agent Daren adjusted his tie. "I will be handling most of the paper work, muggle cooperation, anything that involves a pen."

"I thought this was only an advisory position." Rose flipped open the folder. Pictures of victims spilled on her desk. They were immobile, probably replicated from muggle photos, and the images were unnerving. Six people, all local outdoors men and women, who had stumbled out of the forest with their eyes burned from their sockets. The officials investigating the case had gathered reports of 'flashing lights' and 'glowing figures,' which lead them to assume it was another UFO-mental case that had little actual implication. Rose wondered if the FBMI had anything to do with that conclusion.

"We had three agents die in those trees in the last six months. So far Boston has been reluctant to fill those positions. We are going to need all the active participation we can get." Daren's voice took a grave tone as he motioned toward the door. "Are you coming to the briefing, Auror Weasley?"

"Yes, my apologies." Rose collected the report and tucked it under her arm.

Most of the office had already gathered around the large table in the middle of the building. Henley stood at its head, his wand in his hand. He looked up at their arrival. "Weasley, I see you have met your partner. Everyone, this is Auror Sergeant Rose Weasley, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in Great Britain. Her specialty is Dark Creatures. She will being working with Agent Daren on this case."

Rose took a chair at the fair end of the table. They murmured a greeting before turning back to their commander. "Now," he began, and with a flick of his wand a white screen appeared in the air, flashing the victims Rose had caught a glimpse of in her folder. "Six muggles in two weeks have appeared alive and relatively unharmed at local hospitals, all claiming to have seen a bright white light and a glowing figure in a three mile radius of this location." A map appeared on the screen, and a glowing red dot clustered in the trees represented his subject of attention. "The center of the forest."

Rose frowned. From her estimations the forest nearly trailed all the way into Oregon. There was no clear 'center of the forest.' As if sensing her confusion, Daren explained in a low tone. "Most of the National park is pretty benign, with limited creature movement besides the occasion werewolf or moon calf. However, Nelson is bordering a five hundred square miles of heavy magical concentration. Meaning thirteen miles in any direction from that point," He gestured at the map on the screen. "Is magical creature wonderland."

"Like the Forbidden forest." Rose murmured.

"Yes, but unlike your school yard playground we have not been able to muggle-ward the area. Something about the energy fluctuations keep interfering with the charms. Hence our presence, we need to protect the good townspeople of Nelson from knowing just how scary the dark is."

Rose nodded, her mind churning. She would have to ask Henley after the briefing if they had tried rune stones.

"Upon investigation the area yields no other sign of malicious activity, so the only clue we have is the muggles' description, which, as we know, is very unreliable. Auror Weasley, any thoughts?"

Rose blinked, startled by Henley's request. She racked her brain for anything she ever read about 'glowing figures.' "Faeries?" She proposed, and the entire table chuckled.

"Like Tinkerbell?" One asked, a blond in a blue suit with a silver tie.

"Who?" Rose asked, and shook her head. "Not a pixie, a Faerie. There is a difference."

They looked blankly at her. Rose wondered where they had been during any of their history lessons. _In America, where they never had faeries. _Her conscious reminded. Rose sighed, jumping into the background on her theory.

"Fifteen hundred years ago, the wizarding community in Europe and some parts of Asia were at war with the High Elves. In short, we won, they didn't, and their leaders were forced to sign a binding contract. The High Elves were to return to their home dimension, and the lesser of their species were bound to the most noble of magical families. Hence House Elves. They were often described as so beautiful they were luminescent. If my theory is correct, then the contract has been broken and the Fae folk are returning." A both exciting and terrible thought. Fae did not belong in this new world of asphalt and steel, their presence would not be welcomed or feared amongst the muggles of the modern world.

"How do we kill one?" Agent Henley asked.

"The Killing curse." Rose answered. "No blade or lesser magic will do. However, the Fae will use the curse's requirements to their advantage. Not many witches or wizards can summon the will to kill something so beautiful it makes the very air around them sing."

"What about the eyes?" Another agent, dark skin with black hair, asked. "How would an elf burn out the eyes of a muggle?"

Rose shrugged. "Maybe he thought it was good fun. As immortal and wise as they are, Fae are always quite mischievous and spiteful. The only beings they hate worse than wizards are muggles. It may believe mortals had no right to look upon it." _They would be destroyed in this world. Their natural magic has no power where nature no longer rules. It would have been better for them to stay home. Why could they not have stayed home? _

Agent Henley stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Alright, Auror Weasley, you will lead the hunt tomorrow. I hope that you may muster the will to do what is necessary."

"The kill….killing curse?" Rose stuttered. "But it's illegal! I'll go to Azkaban."

"The FBMI has the express permission of the legislative in Boston to use whatever force, including the killing curse that is necessary to do their jobs. If you need to green that son of a bitch, you will. That is your _job, _Auror Weasley; I suspect you will follow your orders." Without another word the office had returned to their desks, the silver screen disappearing back into Agent Henley's wand.

Daren laid a hand on her shoulder. "You best get ready for tomorrow, Auror. A team'll be assembled and awaiting your guide by seven o'clock. Let's finish this before this fairy kills any more muggles."

_The killing curse. _Rose felt ill. _Obviously this is not the job Harry had intended. _Her uncle had probably pictured a desk job, very similar to the one she held at the Ministry. Yet on her second day, she was already being thrown into the field. _Like I always wanted. _Rose didn't really know if getting what she wished for really tasted all that sweet.

* * *

A/N: Hope everyone is having happy holidays! A thank you to those who review, and all those who read.


	4. Chapter 4

_"...he above the rest /_

_In shape and gesture proudly eminent /_

_Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost /_

_All her original brightness, nor appeared /_

_Less than archangel ruined, and the excess /_

_of glory obscured..." _

Book I: Lines 589-94 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Four

"…_am coming…." _The voice…it was defiantly _a _voice, Rose could tell now…whispered. The white was a bit dimmer around the edges, less intense as it had been before. Her emotions tied to the abyss were also faded, and there was no warm feeling just an emptiness tinged with curiosity.

For some reason, Rose could distinguish the dream from reality. Standing on a vast plain of light, the witch knew that her body was safety tucked into the bed of her new home, exhausted after hours of researching Fae and developing an attack strategy. This did nothing to jerk her mind into wakefulness. Instead it drifted, the only other presence the ringing voice that filled every corner of existence, calling out to her.

"Who are you?" Rose asked into the space. Nothing was keeping her words from her this time.

"_I am…the severity..."_

Rose furrowed her brow in confusion. She stepped forward, and the world around her shook as the edges of her vision narrowed. It outlined a form that may have been human if not for the weak lines of distinction between the shining body and the surrounding black.

"…_and_ _I am coming."_

* * *

"Long night?" Daren asked as Rose rubbed her eyes.

She blinked and sighed, dropped her arms and straightened. The light was just beginning to reach through the trees as her team of five gathered at the edge of the forest, dressed for battle. Rose had embroidered new and strong protection runes into the inside of her dragon-hide over coat which was belted across her chest. Her copper hair was pulled back, and leather gloves protected her hands. At her hip were both her wand holster and the knife she had made in Hogwarts. _Never thought I would need it, now I wouldn't walk into that forest without it. _Rose wasn't confident it would do any damage to the Fae, but it would not hurt to try if the chance came.

"Odd dreams." She murmured and turned away. Her partner had come in nothing but a muggle suit. Daren had no intention of going into the forest, for he was a 'paper-pusher, nothing more.' Her team of five, two witches and three wizards, of who she did not know their names, were instead left under her direct command and they stared at her with stony faces as she gave them their orders.

"I am curious," Daren continued. "How are you going to prevent your eyes from being burnt out?"

Rose grinned, and held out her hand. Resting in her palm was a small chunk of crystal to purple it was almost black. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. If it won't put the bastard out it will sure dim him enough to be able to target and engage."

"Where did you get that?"

"My uncle's joke shop. They have a very appealing Defense section that I am always sure to keep a well-stocked supply of. It helps I get the family discount." She placed the crystal back into the pouch attached to her belt. "Good-bye Daren."

With a curt nod, Rose watched as her team disapparated. She gave her partner one last look before twisting on her heel and landing in the center of the woods with a faint 'pop.'

The trees were bigger than anything Rose had seen before. They towered above her head like the muggle skyscrapers, dampening the light of the wood to a thin gloom. A mist hung over the roots of the trees, covering the blankets of moss and thick layers of fern. It was hard to imagine she was in the same world she had been just moments before.

The forest was absent of the usual sounds of birds and insects, setting off Rose's internal alarms. She motioned to the two agents on her left, who spread out into the trees. Soon, Rose was left alone as they formed a line in trying to locate their assailant. The chill running down Rose's spine told her they would not have to search for long.

Moving through the undergrowth was surreal, and in any moment Rose was sure she would turn and see a herd of unicorns, or perhaps a hungry pack of velociraptors. _Albus would enjoy that story. _ She mused, her wand clutched in her trembling hand. The silencing charms on her boots disguised her presence in the woods even from Rose herself. _I feel like I am in a dream. _

Her heart pounded, her breath hitched in her chest. _Why am I so afraid?_

She paused in her movements, and a leaf fell from above to brush her cheek. Rose deduced that her emotions were not her own, that it was the energy fluctuations that were causing her physiological reactions to the situation. _I am close to the center of the forest. _She took a deep breath and continued, gently slipping past a trunk of a redwood the size of a small muggle vehicle.

Revealed before her was a hollow, devoid of any life but the moss the blanketed the reaching roots of the trees. The area would not have caught her attention if it weren't for the curled body of a red fox in the center. Her instincts told her the animal was dead, and upon examination, Rose saw that its eyes were burned out.

_That is wrong. _Her stomach turned as she spun, looking at the surrounding trees with wide eyes. _A Fae would never intentionally hurt a wild creature. _She felt the side of the fox. It was still warm. _Less than an hour before. He was here…it was here. _Rose lifted her wand to shoot out red sparks, the signal to retreat, when a scream broke the silence of the woods.

Her feet were moving before she could think, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. Ferns whipped by her face, stinging her skin. She tripped over a root, falling to her knees, and got back up again, ignoring the gash bleeding through her pants.

The scream resounded again, pulling her faster and faster until her breath was sharp in her throat and her eyes were streaming with tears. Just as suddenly she broke through the underbrush to a clearing devoid of trees, where the bodies of her team lay dead upon the ground, wands clutched in their hands.

_Not again. _She was dreaming, she had to be dreaming. Her hand reached for her crystal of darkness powder, a crystal similar to the ones she had given the others; apparently they had not been quick enough to use it.

Curse marks gashed the sides of the trees, and the disturbed moss told a story of a brief, but intense battle. But the air was empty; there was no Fae, no sign of what had left her team broken and blind upon the ground.

Rose wished to scream, to lose all reason and control, however her training ran over her body, cooling her mind, sharpening her senses. She pushed the emotions, the grief, anger, and fear into the far corners of her mind where they could be retrieved when it was over. She passed the bodies of her team, checking each for a pulse that was not there, and let her world go still.

She listened to the breeze rustle the tops of the trees, the distant cracks made by small animals, and the trickle of a stream somewhere to the east. The fog was beginning to dissipate revealing the worse of the battle on the ground, manifesting the details of the agents' upturned, blank faces. She ignored the images like she ignored her emotions. _I have a job to do. _

"Where are you?" She murmured to the wind. "_What _are you?"

There was a rustling behind her, but she did not turn. Her body tensed as she listened. Her eyes closed. The darkness behind her eyelids was brief as light encompassed the clearing...to bright and pure she felt it like heat upon her skin. Deep down she recognized that light, but reality at that present was too strong to connect to her dreams. Rose gritted her teeth and spun, smashing the crystal upon the ground.

The light diminished and her eyes flashed open. The clearing hung with a thick cloud of darkness. There was nothing, no being of light, no ringing voice. Just the empty black. "Where are you?!" She cried, flicking her wand forward. Green energy burst from its tip only to wash harmlessly against the tree beyond.

The darkness was gone. She turned again, her eyes wide open, and knew that she was about to die.

But the pain never came. She blinked and felt tears run down her cheeks as she stared into the light, the same light she had walked through so many times in her dreams. It was white and beautiful, washing out the surrounding area until it seemed like there was nothing but her and the marvelous and terrifying energy hanging in in the air. Its voice resonated in her ears like a thousand church bells on Christmas Eve, the scream of a hawk, and the sigh of an infant.

"_Help me."_

The light faded and the energy fell to the ground. Rose let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and blinked the spots from her eyes. She looked down, ignoring the bodies of the agents, to the creature she was supposed to kill.

It lay upon the blood soaked and curse torn moss in a shape that could be shakily called man. It had two legs, two arms, a torso and a head, with eyes that stared up at the sky unblinking. Its hair, like soft tendrils of dust on an afternoon's end, trailed from its head to its shoulders and blended into its over-all luminance with a grace that made Rose want to weep. From those shoulders burst wings like fire and ice, as dark as the night with the moon's cold glow and the shimmering radiance of the stars, larger than anything her eyes had ever seen before, yet no bigger than the clearing where they lay.

It turned its head, and looking upon its face Rose could suddenly see the darkness of its eyes and the sculpted form of its lips and nose, as if the longer she looked the more real it became. She felt her legs give out beneath her and her hands involuntarily pulled its head into her lap. Her wand was gone; she did not remember putting it back in her holster.

"You are not Fae." Rose said, feeling a bit stupid. The creature…whatever it could be, was injured. Blood like that of a unicorn spilled from the open wound in its stomach. When it dripped to the ground the moss shriveled and burned. "What are you?"

It reached up with a hand and touched her face and its skin was so cold it seemed to burn. "_Rose."_

She didn't ask why it knew her name. It seemed like the matter of least importance for Rose could sense that it was dying and that it was _her_ fault. "What are you?" Rose repeated.

"_I…am the severity of God." _

Rose refused to let her mind wander to her dream. "Why did you kill my team? Why did you hurt those muggles?" _And why am I not dead as well? _

"…_they looked upon me…."_

"I am looking at you."

"…_you have seen me before, Rose. You can comprehend…the light…my voice…my existence. It makes me…more...and less…than I was. Such power in this little universe."_

"Why me?" She blurted.

It did not answer, perhaps there _was _no answer. "…_there is a hole in this world...Rose. Such a long fall from the void of Chaos and Night. Such a long way from home. I cannot feel Him here, our father is gone and the seams are splitting, the balance is unreached."_

"I do not understand."

"_Everything dies, Rose Weasley…but I cannot…not here… cannot be released unto this world lest the hole be torn wide_."

Rose still did not understand but that meant little, there was urgency in his expression and it echoed in the beating of her heart. _Merlin, what have I gotten myself into? _"What do I have to do?"

He dropped his hand from her face and reached to his chest, for he was a _he _now. He tapped the very center of him. "_I give my power unto you, so you may close what should never have been opened…and keep safe this world so far from our vision." _He may have smiled, as he guided Rose head down toward his with a hand on the back of her neck. In every moment that passed a shade of brilliance disappeared. When her lips were no more than a hare's breath from his, he spoke again. "_Know that I have seen this universe…where none other has. Know that the power here is not for my brothers, but for yours. So many paths He has made, this was not the one we were meant to tread upon. I am sorry." _

He kissed her and Rose gasped, sucking his breath and light into her. She pulled away, her throat and eyes burning as she watched the creature fade to ash. There was a brief outline of what he had been, before that too, was gone and darkness encompassed all that she knew.

* * *

When Rose opened her eyes all she saw was white. _Am I dead? _She wondered, but the thought was dashed when she turned her head to see the side rails of her hospital bed. _I hate hospitals. _

Daren was sitting at her side, his head stuck in a magazine about Quidditch, reassuring Rose that she at least had ended up in a magical dominion and not a muggles'. Daren's gaze caught hers over the pages of his magazine and he smiled thinly, setting it down on the side table and folding his hands. "You are awake."

"Where am I?" She croaked, her throat and mouth were so dry she felt as if her inner tissue would crack and bleed. Daren handed her a glass of water, which she drank eagerly, and pulled herself in a sitting position. Every bone in her body ached.

"San Francisco. It is unfortunately the closest medical clinic around. How are you feeling?"

"Like a dragon had me for lunch." Rose replied, wincing. "What happened?"

Daren sighed. "Twenty minutes after your team departed a large beam of light shot into the sky. The back-up team rushed to your site, only two find five dead agents and you bleeding from your mouth, ears, and eyes. We hoped you can fill in the blank spaces."

"It wasn't Fae." Rose said, staring ahead. "I was wrong…it was something else, something that I never heard of before. Something powerful," She touched her lips where the creature had kissed her. _I am the severity of God. _"I was the last to see it, by then it was already dying. It turned to ash…and then I must have blacked out. I don't think it intentional killed those agents…apparently whatever form it took in this world was too bright for normal eyes."

"It is gone then?"

"Yes."

Daren sighed again and got to his feet. "I need to contact headquarters. You can floo to the office upon your release."

She watched him leave the small, private room with a heavy heart. _Why am I always the one that survives? _Agent Daren had probably been friends with those under her command, might have even been schoolmates, yet she had not even known their names. Rose wondered if he resented that she lay there, alive, when they did not.

_I did not ask for this._

* * *

"An impressive recovery." The healer muttered, staring down at the results of his diagnosis spell. "You came in with severe brain and throat hemorrhaging, two popped ear drums, internal bleeding in the chest concentrating around your heart and lungs, as well as complete organ failure. Not to mention the severe burns on your lips and the burst capillaries in your eyes. It was as if someone had shoved a fire crab into your body and let it run around while simultaneously poking your eyes and ears with a sharp stick. You have, in a matter of hours, made a complete recovery."

"Thank you." Rose said quietly, taking in his assessment with a worried frown.

He flashed an insincere smile that hid his frustrated confusion. "You shouldn't. Our spells had little to no effect on your condition. Most of your healing was internalized. We had left you for dead."

Rose blinked. "Oh," was all she could respond with as he walked out the door, slamming it closed with a little more force than necessary. Her things had been left on a chair across from her bed. She slipped out of her gown and into the clothes she had donned from the mission, noting they had been skillfully cleaned. Her wand was returned to her hip and her dagger had been untouched. _I wonder what his problem was. _Rose looked around her room and shuddered. _I almost died here. A hospital of all places. Why did I live? _A little voice in her head whispered about the kiss…that something had gone _inside _of her before she had pulled away. Before the creature had turned to ash, as if she had taken everything he was with that moment of contact.

_I give my power unto you…_What had that…_thing…_done to her?

* * *

Rose stood stripped in front of her bathroom mirror, gazing at the pale form of her body. It didn't look different than before. Her scars where still there, from the four deep lines on her right arm, to the crescent moon over her heart where a Pegasus had kicked her fourth year. There were others, little things she had acquired after years of avoiding the infirmary…places where spells had gone wrong, potions bubbled a little too close, or marks of duels from the Auror Academy, where no one held back. Yet there was no sign she had almost died that day.

Returning to headquarters had been painful, having to face the stares of the others as she walked to give her finished report to Agent Henley, who had taken it with a grim line. The funerals for the five fallen where to be held later in the week, and Rose had already steeled herself to go. After all, as their immediate commanding officer, their deaths had been her fault. _Again. _

_And I didn't even know their names. _

Rose frowned and poked herself in the stomach. She again wondered what the creature had done to her with that kiss. She did not _feel _any different, nothing with her magic or her body seemed to be off, but in the back of her mind, Rose knew that she would not walk away from the incident without repercussions. The worst was not knowing what those repercussions would be.

_I could wake up tomorrow with three arms, or turned into a toad. _She could very well drop dead any minute. _Who would let London out to hunt then? _

Suddenly the walls seemed too closed in around her and Rose rushed to the toilet, spitting her meager lunch into the bowl and letting the tears roll down her cheeks. _What in Merlin have I become? _

For an hour she lay on the cool bathroom floor, soaking in the minimal comfort the tile gave her. Rose felt…strange, and stranger still that the feeling was so abrupt. She wondered if she had brought it upon herself, like some sort of delayed mental breakdown, or if whatever the creature had done to her was catching up. _Like a disease. _Rose lurched to her feet and turned on the shower, trying too cool her body in the cold spray.

The heat did not leave her, and she dressed quickly with her heart thudding in her ears. The world around her spun and a buzzing filled the back of her head. _Calm down. _Her rational mind murmured. _This is all in your head. Nothing is going to happen to you. _

_You don't know that! _Rose shouted back. She called London and locked him in his cage, which she shoved in her gray backpack. Her motions seemed to have no backing in her head anymore, as if her mind and her body had been disconnected. _Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a panic attack. _

She paused in her frenzied movement and closed her eyes, forcing herself to reconnect with reality. _What are you doing, Rose? _She asked herself. _Stop acting like a bloody idiot. _A deep breath pushed the panic from her body and she collapsed on the bed, one hand still clutching the bag. A muffled hooting reminded her she needed to let London go, but the action did not seem urgent. "Just a moment, I just need a moment." Rose muttered, feeling her forehead with cold fingers. It was hot to the touch, or perhaps her hands were overly cool from the shower. _I'm fine. _She repeated in her head. _I am not going to die. Nothing is happening. I am fine._

She opened her eyes, and seeing the familiar expanse of her bedroom ceiling was like a calming drought on her mind. _Everything is going to be okay. _

As Rose finished the thought she felt something shift inside of her. "What in Merlin?" She muttered, sitting up. It moved again, in the space between her breasts, hidden by her

purple cotton robe she reserved for lounging about the house. She touched the spot with her free hand.

All of a sudden the world around her melted into a swirling, burning blackness. Rose opened her mouth to scream as her bedroom disappeared, but her voice was pulled away from her. Pain bloomed in her chest, and looking down she realized that she was dissolving into light. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Rose fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

"What do you mean she's gone?" Hermione asked her voice low and hot. Ron took her hand in an attempt for comfort, but she shook it off with a glare.

Harry spread his hands. "She went missing two days ago. Her house was empty except for the things in the bathroom, food in the kitchen, and the sheets on the bed." They were sitting in the living room of the Weasley-Granger home, facing each other. Ginny sat stock-still beside Harry, while the children lingered around, giving each other uneasy glances. The only face missing was that of Hugo, whose two year old daughter had the Wizard flu.

"You think she ran away." Lily said with a frown.

"Rose wouldn't do that." James spat. "She's not a coward."

"I never said that." Harry shot back angrily. "But one must look at the facts. Five agents died under her command, and she nearly died herself."

Hermione's gaze was sharp and direct. "You told me it was only an advisory position."

"It was. The Americans had a different idea."

"Do we know the details of what happened?" Albus asked.

"No. Boston won't release the reports immediately. There is about two weeks of red tape to wade through." Harry rubbed the ridge of his nose, pushing his glasses higher on his face. "We are not eliminating any possibilities."

"I am going to California." Hermione growled, getting to her feet.

"No!" Harry commanded harshly.

"She's my daughter, and you are the one who sent her over there." Hermione growled. "You don't have any say what I can or can't do."

"You cannot go barging into a Federal office without proper permission and expect to get answers." Harry responded. "You do not have the international authority. Another Auror, however, might."

"Who?" Lily asked.

"I will." Albus rose from his seat by the window. "I don't have any concrete responsibilities here. I will go."

Hermione seethed for a moment, looking between her best friend and her nephew, a war in her eyes. "Fine." She spat. "Find her, Albus, find her or I will."

* * *

A/N: Once again, thanks to all my readers! Please review with any thoughts, critiques, questions or encouragements.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Into this wild abyss, /_

_The womb of nature and perhaps her grave, /_

_Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, /_

_But all these in their pregnant causes mixed /_

_Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight, /_

_Unless the almighty maker them ordain_

_His dark materials to create more worlds…"_

Book II: Lines 910-16, _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Five

Rose stared up at her bedroom ceiling, feeling faintly ill and relieved as she decided the night before had merely been a dream, if a very bad one. Her back slowly began to cramp on the carpeted floor and heaving herself into a sitting position, she leaned against the frame of the bed. She rubbed her eyes, grimacing at the foul taste of bile in her mouth, and decided that she was going to take a pain potion and sleep in for the rest of the day. _Screw work. _Rose thought, even as every fiber in her rebelled against the idea.

A muted hooting interrupted her bleary thoughts and she looked down her arm to the strap of her bag gripped firmly by her hand. _London. _Her thoughts went back to her frantic packing. Last night her head had been full of an urgency, and all she could think of was going home. _Home. _Rose bit down the thought the moment it appeared in her mind. She could never go home, not if she wanted to be an Auror. Thankfully that earnestness had left her with only a numb feeling in her limbs and a pounding at the back of her head. _I feel like I drank too much fire whiskey. _

Rose moved to let London go when a clicking filled her ears. The sound was strangely familiar but she couldn't quite place it. The source was revealed only a few moments later when a fat bulldog pushed open the bedroom door, gave her a dour look, and jumped up on the bed. Rose frowned, trying to remember when she had seen a dog around the house.

"Jeremy." A muffled voice groaned over the sound of wet dog kisses. Rose froze in terror. "Jeremy, you got to go let Ned out."

Mute, Rose glanced around her bedroom, although whether it was actually _hers _was in question. The set up was the same but there were minute details she'd overlooked. The fact the walls were painted a dark blue, when hers had been gray…the purple sheets of the bed she had been leaning on, hers were red…the fact that pictures of a brunette couple lined every inch of the walls.

_Merlin's balls. _ Before she could truly react to what might have been the strangest situation in her life, bare feet hit the floor by her head and a woman, dressed in silken pajamas, walked over her legs and out the door, a bulldog trotting behind her.

Rose wondered briefly if she was invisible, until the women returned a cup of coffee in her hand and a much more awake expression. She glanced at Rose, took a few steps, and looked again. The shattering of the mug upon the floor broke the witch's stupor as she leapt to her feet, grabbed her bag and dashed out the door. The woman's screams followed her out of the house, the house that was her house, from the very shape to the placement of the furniture, but was distinctly unfamiliar. Outside, she allowed herself a glance backwards, at the yellow siding that was most assuredly not the plain white she had come home to the night before, to the well cut grass and the cheerful bed of flowers lining the hedges.

Rose ran, hoping that maybe it was just a nightmare, but everything that had been familiar…from the library, to the tiny convenience store and the brick elementary school, looked strange. She stopped in front of the lumber mill, and knocked on the doors. Deep down, Rose had a feeling that no one would answer. It was not the pristine building it had been two days ago. The windows were broken, the cinderblock exterior was chipped, and the doors had been painted with graffiti.

"_Alohomora." _She murmured, flicking her wand at the chain locked door. The obstruction fell to her feet with a rusty jangle and the door creaked open. It was dark and grimy, a wide space filled with the smell of rotting sawdust and cat pee. Dust clouded the air, swirling in the faint morning light creeping though the shatter windows. No wizard, witch, or muggle has set foot there in decades.

With a heavy dread Rose backed out of the building and relocked the door. She turned, overlooking the town of Nelson, oblivious to the wrongness of its existence, and fell to her knees, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Hours later, Rose found herself in the library, trying to make sense of what had happened. She considered owling her family, but to send London across the ocean in what may be a useless endeavor seemed cruel. The owl was currently enjoying his freedom in the small park across the road, where Rose had ordered him to stay unless otherwise called. She didn't know how long she would stay in the town.

The witch was doubtful the library, being muggle, would have any answers for her little problem, if any existed at all. She was a million miles away from home, and the world wasn't the same as it had been. For one, the newspaper dated it Wednesday, August, 1st 2007. Two days ago it had been, Thursday, July 5th, 2029. Twenty two years in the past, if any resemblance of Rose lived, she would be three months old.

Of course, time travel wasn't impossible, her mother could attest to that. However, it didn't explain the dilapidated mill, where the FBMI had kept their base since 1942, and the general state of the town. When Rose had arrived, she had been impressed with the general pleasantness of Nelson, California. As she had walked to the library from the mill, the pristine-small town vibe had been marred by the boarded up windows of shops and the abandoned houses. Even the library looked a little-worse for wear. _An annual Christmas donation to the local library. _Apparently the Bureau's money had gone a long way in the town that had no local infrastructure. With their absence, Nelson was slowly fading away.

"Where am I?" Rose wondered out loud as she sat in the corner of the library, hidden by rows of non-fiction books.

_What had the creature said?_ Rose concluded that this did have something to do with that kiss, and her inexplicable behavior last night. She remembered the sensation of falling, and the odd experience of dissolving into light. '_I give my power unto you, so you may close what should never have been open…there is a hole in this world, Rose.'_

'_Such a long way from home…'_

_I know what you mean._

* * *

She washed and dressed within the handicapped stall in the library bathroom, choosing a pair of loose gray pants and a white shirt. Unlike some witches her age, Rose preferred wearing robes to muggle clothes with the exception of pants. So instead of feeling bare, she chose her least strange robe, something that resembled a coat that hung down to her calves. It was dark blue, a good color for her, as her mother had always said, with silver fastenings.

After a quick check of the bathroom, Rose apparated to a Kansas cornfield, where she took ten minutes of rest, before turning on her heel and appearing outside the city of Boston.

Her heart and her core cried out in protest, and Rose's knees were shaking when she sat down quietly on a roadside bench, her pack slung loosely over her shoulder. She looked toward the skyline of the city and inhaled the faint smell of ocean. Transcontinental apparation was tiring and dangerous. The longer she pulled herself in a certain direction, the more magic she drained and the weaker she became. _If I get splinched here, _Rose thought, her mouth a grim line. _There might not be anyone to put me back together. _

She sighed, hitched her pack further on her shoulders, and began to walk.

Boston was empty. Not in the normal sense, there were still plenty of muggles scurrying around, riding in cars, and shouting at each other in odd, American accents. No one gave her a second look as she peered sharply at certain walls, or ducked into alley ways. Every time a frustrated expression crossed her face, and she continued to walk.

As the sun began to set and the lights flicked on, Rose felt the fight leave her body. She walked into a coffee café and ordered a hot tea from a frazzled looking waitress. She looked out into the street, and never felt more alone.

_They are gone. _Or they never existed at all. Every entrance, every business she had seen on a map or read about in books, had been absent in her search. Right down to the book store lavatory that serviced as the entrance to the Federal Government of Magic. Merlin, the bookstore had even turned out to be a secondhand appliance shop.

Her tea arrived in a white mug and she sipped it, grimacing at the weak taste before resuming her inner contemplations. Traveling in time would not have explained what had happened….some of the magical businesses famous in Boston had existed before the city itself, and surely would have still in 2007. She had arrived in the same place she departed from, in space that is, giving the impression that she had merely traveled to another reality. A reality where there were no magical communities, or at least, not as Rose knew them.

_Yet I still have the use of my wand. _Rose knew very little about the origins of magic; however she had read that it was an energy that was catalyzed from the world around them, one explanation for why wizards recovered faster from magical exhaustion in places where magical concentration was the highest. If she had appeared in a world where magic was absent, then her wand, theoretically, would not work. _I can at least be thankful of that. _Rose paid for the tea with her few muggle American dollars and left to find temporary shelter, determined to continue her hunt for answers with a more ready and determined mind the next morning.

* * *

Three weeks later, Rose awoke to the familiar smell of mildew, on a transfigured mattress in the middle of an abandoned house, with a revelation. She had been chasing ghosts around the world and it was time to stop. Her muggle money, originally exchanged from galleons by the goblins at Gringotts, was nearing an end, and she refused to simply _make _more, as Rose considered herself anything but a thief.

It was time to accept reality.

Her world was out of reach, no matter how many doors she tried to open they would not begin to exist just because she wanted them to. Whatever had happened in that forest so long ago was in the past, and it was her duty to accept the consequences like an adult, and not a child pursuing butterflies.

_I am not going home. _

She sat up and ignored the aches her magically constructed bed had caused in the night. Her wand banished the ratty curtains from the windows and let the morning gold shimmer in, as shy as a new schoolgirl. London hooted from the rafters, his eyes sharp and his belly plump from a night's good eating of the houses' resident vermin. Rose greeted him with a smile and collected her things, stowing them safely in the grey canvas bag. She never felt more thankful toward her cousin than at that moment, when she held everything in her life in a single hand. Things could have gone so much worse if she had just unpacked that first night in California, or if she had not felt the need to hold the bag when she slipped out of her world and into that hellish nightmare.

Her wand was the last to be stowed away. Rose twirled the wood in her hands, tracing the familiar patterns with loving fingers. She still remember the day she had gotten it, just eleven years old, fresh from the excitement of getting her Hogwarts letter. Mr. Ollivander had not frightened her, as he had her brother Hugo who had clutched their mother's robe and stared at the rather vapid old man with wide blue eyes.

Rose had tried many wands that day, short ones and long ones, dark and white alike with disappointing or destructive results. Her mother had assured her, as the wandmaker transposed the shelves, growing more enlivened by the minute, that extraordinary wands take their time in choosing just as extraordinary partners.

When it finally came, Rose felt as if the sun had placed its sole attention on her. The warmth had traveled down her arms and into her fingers, causing brightly colored sparks to shoot from the end of the wand. "Twelve and one-fourth inches, pine and dragon heartstring. Sensibly supple. A good wand, Miss Weasley. May it take you to great heights." Ollivander had given her a knowing smile as Hermione paid and ushered them out to visit the bookstore.

The wand had been plain then, but like every wizard's tool, it had slowly gleaned a personality as her magic developed, the wood morphing into patterns at her inexplicit will. The handle had shifted to fit more comfortably in her larger hand, with darker engravings of feathers giving her enough texture to hold onto it without slipping. It remained straight and simple; the pale wood only detailed enough to be distinctive, personal, and in her biased opinion, beautiful.

Rose had never thought so much about her wand before, because she had always existed in a world where a wand was merely an extension of the witch herself. As she stared down at it then, a stone in her heart, Rose knew that was no longer the case. _My world is theirs now. The muggles. The Magic-less. The ordinary. And I must be ordinary too. _Her hands twitched.

Rose supposed she could have gone back to Britain; however, California had inspired a sort of nostalgia in her. In addition, she had no other form of international identification than her forged passport, something the Muggle-liaison office had issued her. Rose supposed it was more socially explainable to be a foreigner without papers.. She could also fain ignorance of certain customs, which would be helpful to hide her complete obliviousness to the way muggles, especially American muggles, acted.

Rose chose a small city nestled between the forest and the ocean in the northern half of the state. It was mostly supported by two bustling universities, where one concentrated on the arts, and the other on science. _If anyone asks, I am receiving a higher degree in medieval history. _Hopefully no one would ask why she would be studying such a thing in California, rather than her homeland. However, it was the only subject Rose could conceive boring enough for people to ignore, and similar enough to her own knowledge that if any person chose to pry, Rose could fudge her expertise. _I'll just have to leave out the goblin wars._

* * *

Rose took over a picnic table in a shady part of the city park, originally dubbed Ervin City Park, . The classifieds spread themselves before her, weighed down by her pack and a few stones she had acquired from the near-by duck pond. Rose was numbly circling possible apartments she could rent, and was beginning to realize that on whatever salary she could get from working an under-the-table job, it would not support her living alone. _I need a roommate. _

That fact alone posed many problems. For one, Rose hadn't lived with people since Hogwarts, and had gotten used to that lifestyle. Second, Rose was most obviously a witch, and knew only how to cook, clean, and generally live with magic. If asked to make dinner, whipping out her wand would cause some uncomfortable questions.

_Maybe I'll get lucky and find an especially stupid muggle. _Rose sighed and chose an advertisement at random. A woman her age was offering half of the living space in her loft to a suitable candidate at a reasonable price. The flat was located in a middle-class area of town, and only a few blocks from the ocean. _Call or stop by with any questions. Only serious requests considered. _

_Can't get any more serious than a destitute witch I suppose. _Rose folded up the paper and tucked it into her pack. She glanced around, found herself alone, and popped out of sight.

She arrived in an alleyway a few feet from the entrance of the loft. The street was quiet and narrow, decorated only with small trees on the edge of the sidewalk. The houses themselves were made of gray stone, and had narrow windows that reflected back the consistently blue sky. Rose pushed open the gate and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the advertised building with nervousness bubbling in her chest. _What if I am not a very convincing muggle? _It was a silly thought, but it kept turning over and over in her head like a broken carousel.

She pressed the black button on the door frame that corresponded with the loft, and waited until a voice answered her back.

"'Ello?" It seemed grumpy. Rose gulped. _I am a Gryffindor! Not a hapless Hufflepuff. _Then again, a Hufflepuff might be better in this sort of situation.

"Hello, I'm Rose Weasley, responding to the advertisement in the paper for the flat." _Loft. Merlin's beard, Rose pull yourself together. _

"One sec." Rose waited, her hands stiff at her sides. A buzzing noise suddenly drew her attention to the upper left corner of the door. A black eye stared at her, a red light blinking rather threateningly. _A camera, for seeing things far away. _How strange, her grandfather would be having a fit over the ingenuity of the device, but Rose always held her faith in good wards, rather than spying. Eyes could be fooled, and it was very hard to dub clever magic.

"Righty, you can come on up." The door buzzed open and Rose entered, giving a lingering glance to the camera that traced her path. _Why do I feel like I passed some sort of test?_

The elevator was marked 'Out of Order,' so Rose was forced to take the stairs. Four floors later and a hearty reminder to begin an exercise regime, Rose found herself knocking on the door of 4C, although she hadn't seen the doors for B or A. Another camera attached to the wall blinked at her. Rose strangled the urge to wave.

The door opened to reveal a tall woman with the curliest blonde hair Rose had ever seen. It'd been cut short at the shoulder, which didn't help disguise the bigness of it. She had blue eyes and pale skin, straight teeth and a body that was thin not from exercise, but a good diet. Her eyes swept over Rose, who had chosen not to wear a robe despite how naked it made her feel. Her wand was concealed in the small of her back, and her pack was strung over her shoulder.

"Misty Walczak." She held out a hand.

Rose took it. "Rose Weasley."

"Nice accent. Where you from?"

"London." _Close enough. _"Thank you from letting me up."

Misty smiled, and stepped aside in a nonverbal invitation. "You were the first non-creep. Plus I like your hair. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one out there with untamable curls."

Rose unconsciously touched her copper strands, which were beginning to come loose from their binding at the back of her head. "Not without trying."

The loft was quite beautiful, opening up to a conjoined kitchen and living room. Misty pointed a black door to the right. "Your room." She pointed to an identical door to the left. "Mine. The bathroom is by the windows over there." A white door next to the far wall of the living room. "Full shower, tub, sink, and what not. The kitchen is fully functioning; there is a mattress on your bed." Rose walked into the living room. Two couches and a chair faced the window and a large flat screen TV. A black area rug seemed to blend into the dark wood floor. The wall to her right was devoted to two large desks, one empty, the other cluttered with muggle technology. Rose counted at least six computer screens, and wondered if that amount was normal.

Misty followed her gaze. "The empty one is yours. One rule in this apartment, do not touch my computers. In fact, I wouldn't touch my desk unless you need to borrow my stapler." It was a large contraption and red. Rose nodded, not sure what the computers did anyway. "Awesome. Would you like coffee?"

* * *

They sat down at the kitchen table, Rose sipped her hot drink and decided that it was of better quality than Daren had given her. Misty was eyeing her with a distant gaze. Rose wondered what the woman could be thinking about her. Rose had learned that Misty was a graduate student as the science university, with the goal of achieving her masters in computers. She was twenty-four, originated from New Hampshire and her parents were retired engineers spending their days complaining about the president.

"Whatcha you doing here, Rose?"

"Trying to get an apartment."

"I mean in California." Misty smiled.

Rose opened her mouth to relate the lie she had come up with, yet somehow, looking at Misty, she knew the woman would see through her façade. "Trying to find a new life." She replied slowly, looking down at the steaming brown mass of her drink.

"Mind if I ask what you were before? Did you go to school? Have a job? Where you a superhero, by chance?"

"I was a…consultant, of sorts, for a Law enforcement division. Something bad happened and it was my fault, so I moved to get away."

"California is a bit of a start. So will you be joining me then?"

Rose glanced around the loft. "I suppose I will."

"Good, I've got the paperwork on my desk. How soon can you get your stuff here?"

* * *

Misty didn't blink when Rose's room and desk were turned into a library. She didn't ask where the bookshelves had come from, or why Rose didn't have a computer of her own. The broomstick in the corner remained unidentified, as well as her strange taste in clothes, or the posters that moved in the corner of her eye. It took a week for the woman to draw the line about the unexplained lifestyle of her roommate.

Rose was reading a book about the native unicorns of North America when London chose to fly in, land on the table, and steal a bite of her toast. Rose absent-mindedly stroked the owl on the head, forgetting all about the muggle sitting at the table, her tablet streaming lines of computer jargon in neon green. Misty stared at the owl for several moments before turning to her new roommate.

"Rose?" She began.

"Hmmm?" Rose asked, not really paying attention. Apparently most unicorns in the United States dwelled in the Rocky Mountains and were commonly mistaken for goats.

"I take it the owl on the table is going to be a regular occurrence?"

"What?" Rose looked up, frozen, and felt all the blood leave her face in one dizzying moment. "Um."

Misty looked back down to her code. "What's its name?"

"London…after the city." Rose said, wondering why exactly the muggle wasn't kicking her out, screaming, or calling the police about her freak of a roommate. _Merlin's balls, I am such a bloody idiot. _"And he's a sort of…pet."

"Not the usual kind of animal someone keeps as a pet."

_Shit. _"No, I suppose not."

"Well, you aren't very usual, are you Rose?" Misty cocked a smile and looked at Rose through her eyeglasses. They were tinted yellow and square with thick black frames. Misty explained they were to prevent eyestrain. They made her eyes look as green as her code.

Somehow Rose felt like Misty knew something she didn't. "I guess not."

"So did you get the job at the diner?" The abrupt change in conversation made Rose blink. London flew from the table to the back of the spare chair, where he hooted quietly to himself and preened his feathers.

"Yes." The diner in question was situated on the corner down the road. It was the old-fashioned kind, with a metal outside and a glowing neon sign. It mostly served burgers and limp salads, and she would be forced to where an ugly red dress that was made for someone of a larger frame. Yet the owner, a man named Greg with a large stomach and a constant perfume of whiskey, took her without question. The pay, combined with tips, would cover her living expenses and then some. "I start tomorrow."

"Speaking of which, I won't be back until late, I have lab. And I was wondering…" Misty fished around in her purse for a moment, and pulled out a slim plastic card. She handed it to Rose and the witch examined the object with furrowed eyebrows.

It was about the size of a driver's license, and it was similar in form. A picture of her was glossed on the outside, as well as the logo of Misty's university. "Ervin College of Science and Technology. Student ID_."_ Rose read out loud, confused. "But I am not a student."

"You said you wanted to start exercising. Student's get to use the college gym free of charge. I pulled a few strings with a kid who does work-study in the Admissions office, and he printed it for me. You aren't an actual student, but it will pass." Misty grinned and looked very smug.

Rose didn't really know what to say. _This is probably against the rules. _She thought. _Yet denying it would be kind of rude, after she went through all that work to get it to me, and I do need to start working out. _"Thank you." She said sincerely.

"No problem." Misty replied, a sharp glint in her eye.

* * *

**A/N: **Not my favorite chapter, but it needed to be written. Thank you to all those all over the world who have been reading and following this story, as well as a big shout out to those who review. Thank you for your continued and considerate support. Please review with any questions, comments, or critiques, and I will be sure to update quickly.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Awake, arise, or be forever fallen."_

Book I: Line 330, _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Six

The bass vibrated her breastbone and saturated the walls around her. The room flickered with colored light. It smelled of stale beer and vomit, man sweat and the skunk of pot. She stumbled, swearing at the floor that kept lurching beneath her, and continued down the hallway.

The cup in her hand was empty, but she clung to it anyway as a reassurance that her hands still worked. "Holly?" She murmured, peering into the empty doorways to the rooms beyond. She recognized the shapes of guys, guys smoking, guys watching TV. When she called out they turned and stared at her. "Have you seen Holly?" She burped and dropped her cup to cover her mouth with her hand. Her jaw locked and the sour taste of bile over-road the lingering ghastliness of the previous vodka cocktail.

A shadow stood and removed itself from the rest. It cupped her jaw with warm hands and turned her face to look at his. "Hey, are you alright?" It rumbled. She grinned, and placed her hand on his chest.

"Yeah." She giggled, swallowing her bile. "I'm just looking for my friend." Her words slurred out of her like liquid molasses. The world shook and she stumbled into him, sniggering. "Is this an earthquake?"

"No. What's your name?" She could barely make out the words written on his shirt. She stabbed each letter, sounding them out. Why was it so hard?

"S-O-B-E-R. Sober. Oh." She scowled, and looked up at him. "Have you seen Holly? We were supposed to stick together, but there was this guy, Rich, Rick, Rickie? And when I turned she was just, like, gone!" She held up her hands to emphasize her past befuddlement. "So I like went looking for her. She, like, didn't want to come...she hates loud music…and guys…" She grinned, leaning into the man and placed her lips on his ear "I think she's a lesbian. But DON'T tell anyone I told you." She shushed him.

The man's face was steadily becoming clearer. She liked it; he was cute, even with his nerdy glasses and his freckles. He had nice hair; she touched it, ruffling the ends. "I like your hair."

He caught her hand and placed it at her side. "What is your name?" He repeated more slowly.

"Julia. But I'm not giving you my number." Concern laced his words, but Julia didn't catch it as she drifted around the hallway, groggily taking in the empty cups scattered around the floor, and her eyes turned up, to the ceiling above her head. She could hear the music and the plastic balls of the beer-pong game hitting the table. She vaguely remembered going downstairs. She thought she had seen Holly go downwards. When had she seen that? "I need to find her."

"I know Julia, I will help you." He led her down the hallway, supporting her with his arm. "I might know where she is."

"She's ginger, with short hair, green eyes. Pretty, very pretty. I keep asking, like, why she doesn't have a boyfriend or whatever. She always does these weird things…but I don't really care, because everyone, like, needs to do their own stuff, like, right? And I just think she, like, needed to get out more. She just locks herself in her room and studies…lame-o. So I was like, hey Holly, want to go to a frat, and she was like-no, but I convinced her, because, like, I had no one else to go with. And she has a car….that helps. I hope she wasn't drinking because we need to drive and I am so, like, not getting killed tonight!"

They came to the end of the hallway and took a right. The music slowly disappeared and so did the little light that was left. Julia stumbled in the darkness and clutched tighter to the man whose name she didn't know, and hoped feebly that they would go back to the party. Maybe he would dance with her?

The man tried a door. It was plain white and pretty indistinguishable from the others, so Julia wasn't really sure why that one was so special. They just needed to find Holly. Julia sulked and opened her mouth to remind him when the man growled in frustration and rammed his shoulder into the wood. It shuddered and yelped. Did doors yelp?

"Jesse, open this door right now!" The man yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. Julia flinched. _Gross. _

"Jesus, Mike what the fuck?!" A voice screeched from the inside. "I'm busy!"

"Jesse, open this door or so help me god I will…" Julia never found out what the man, Mike, would have done, because the door cracked open and a lanky kid with round glasses and dark hair peeked out. He was thin and kind of creepy looking, with deep pockets of recently healed acne marking his cheeks.

"Ew." Julia groaned, and bile surged from her stomach to her throat. She kneeled over and spit it out. Mike barely gave her a second look.

"What the hell are you doing, Jesse?" Mike hissed. "I thought, after the first time…Do you have her friend, Holly?"

Jesse paled. "N…No."

"Open the door." Mike growled, looming over the much smaller boy. "Now."

Jesse tried to close the door again and Mike stopped him with a hard shoulder and an unforgiving foot. Jesse clutched his knee and fell to the ground. "What the hell, Mike? It's none of your business!"

Mike grabbed Julia by the upper arm and dragged her into the room. It was a sort of storeroom filled with broken pool tables, office chairs, and marred wooden desks. But it was the figure on the stained mattress in the middle of the room that caught Julia's attention.

Her screams echoed through the hallways, only to be drowned out by the music from above.

* * *

Rose sighed and picked up the coffee pot. The machine steamed and hissed in protest, but she ignored it, filling the mugs of the men who sat at the bar. They disregarded her faint smiles and continued to stare at the screen where a football game was blaring. She rolled her eyes and pulled down the hem of her dress, trying not to notice how it rid up over her behind and drooped around her chest. The diner was relatively empty. There was a business man in corner, leaching the slow but free Wi-Fi, and a college couple more interested in each other's spit than the pie before them. Rose made a face and set down the pot, turning into the kitchen.

Greg was sitting in a chair by the corner, his hands loosely cupping a bottle of whiskey and his mustache ruffling with the force of his drunken snores. Rose looked toward the stove where Jimmy, the assistant cook, was contemplating between two types of spices. He was handsome with mouse brown hair and a ready smile. He also made the list for the best cook Rose had ever encountered. When the diner was slow and Greg was too drunk to notice, Jimmy often experimented with the ingredients, using Rose and her fellow full-time waitress Lindsey as lab rats.

"You know," Rose untied her apron and threw it on the steel table in the middle of the kitchen. "I used to help people."

"Oh yeah?" Jimmy asked, holding up the two bottles. "What do you think; sage or rosemary?"

"Rosemary." She leaned against the wall and folded her hands across her chest.

"You are right, sage it is." Jimmy took a pinch of the stuff and tossed it into the bubbling pot before him. "I'm thinking of doing a soup of the day thing if Greg goes for it."

"Just make it seem like it was his idea." Rose replied.

"Now what were you saying, you used to help people?" Jimmy stirred the stew with a wooden spoon.

"Well…help people help people. I was good at my job…now I am just stuck here serving coffee to construction workers and drugged-out teenagers. I miss feeling…."

"Like a productive citizen of humanity?" Jimmy grinned. "You aren't the only one stuck in this steel death trap against their will, Rose. And I thought you said you wanted to be ordinary."

"I didn't think ordinary was a synonym for boring." She grumbled, kicking a crumbled paper towel across the floor. _I traded one prison for another. Will I ever get to become the Auror I was trained to be? _Of course, every opportunity she was ever given to prove herself to her superiors had gotten people killed. _Good wizards and witches both, because I overstepped my bounds. If I ever get the chance, maybe I should just go it alone…other people have a habit of getting slaughtered, leaving me with the consequences. _She had an uncanny knack of staying alive when others, better witches and wizards than her surely, didn't. If she simply removed that element, maybe people wouldn't drop like spiders to a basilisk just by being around her.

_If I ever get another chance, that is. _As unlikely as returning home.

A newspaper lying on the spice cabinet caught her attention and she grabbed it, holding it up to the cook. "This yours?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Sometimes I read the restaurant reviews."

"Mind if I…?" He nodded and went back to the soup.

The still photos and orderly text made Rose miss the Daily Prophet, which was a surprising feeling. Even under new management, the wizarding paper hadn't been the most reliable source of information. Comparatively, the Ervin Herald was quite dull, the front page headlining a tree dedicated to a retired police commissioner in the city park. However, it was something to pass the time until supper, and Rose took it out into the diner and sat down in one of the booths. The football game was in its third quarter so Rose figured the men at the bar wouldn't need anything from her for at least a couple of hours.

She spread out the paper and skimmed over the bolded headlines and colorful pictures. Information used to be her specialty-discerning everything she could about what she was up against. Even if her only foe was the general ordinariness of Ervin, it wouldn't hurt to know her enemy.

A small section on the third page caught her attention. Rose glanced around the diner, satisfied that she was suitably ignored, and began to read.

**Accident in College Weight Room Claims Student Life**

By Associated Press

Ervin College of Science and Technology has experienced quite a few tragedies in the past couple of weeks. Just after the student body began to mourn the deaths of Ralph C. Harris and his fraternity brother, Aaron Paredes who died in a car accident last week, another death has sent the college reeling. William Keiffer, an honor student and a soccer star, died yesterday while weight lifting at the college gym. Although police and campus security have been vague on the details of the case, eyewitness Jason Zachary, who was working in the gym at the time, informed our reporters that the safety features on the assisted bench press failed, sending two hundred pounds of weight onto the neck of Keiffer, crushing his spine and killing him instantly. Coincidently, Keiffer was also a member of the Zeta Gamma Phi brotherhood, a fraternity who will forever be grieved by the deaths of their three brothers. To hear of funeral arrangements for William Keiffer, Aaron Paredes, or Ralph C. Harris, email our office at ervinharoldpress

_Two is an accident, three is a case. _Rose thought with a grim smile. She knew that there was magic in this world, and if there was magic, there were things that used it for dark purposes. She had seen countless of small and ambiguous newspaper articles such as the one before her, muggles trying to rationalize things as coincidences and failing to connect the dots. Whatever was behind the 'accidents' picking off brothers of Zeta Gamma Phi…Rose knew that it wasn't finished.

_ Maybe I am not done being an Auror after all. _It was time to put Misty's gift to good use.

* * *

Albus flashed his badge at the Agent, his face as serious as his black robes. "Auror Albus Potter, here to inquire about the disappearance of Auror Sargent Rose Weasley. Might I ask who the Bureau sent to speak with me?"

"Agent Cepheus Daren. I was, briefly, Auror Weasley's partner."

Albus didn't like the way the man smirked at him. The whole place put him in a bad mood. They were in what he assumed was his cousin's office. Her posters still lingered on the wall and her books (those she deemed appropriate for work) lined the shelves. "Were you with Auror Weasley on her last case?"

Daren shook his head. "I am merely a paper pusher, Auror Potter, not a field Agent."

"The position Weasley took was meant to be an advisory, she wasn't a field agent either, Daren."

Daren's smile fell. "Perhaps 'advisory' has a different definition in your country, Potter. The mission was a success, even if five Agents died in the attempt. Two days later Weasley vanished, didn't come to into the office, her house was relatively empty. Our office assumed she skipped town out of guilt."

"My country invented English, let me remind you. My cousin deals with guilt, Agent Daren, she doesn't run away from it. I would like to have a copy of her report on the case, assuming she turned one in before her disappearance, as well as her medical records and anything else that might be of consequence. Any refusal will be treated as hostile toward me and the Auror department of the Ministry of Magic, to my calculation the most powerful ally your country has in the international battle against Dark Magic." His green eyes flashed.

Daren gulped. It was easy to draw lines in the sand against an opponent located across an ocean. However, one sitting before you was a whole other matter. "Of course, sir."

Albus looked around the room. "I will use this as my work space. I am to remain in the United States until my cousin can be located. If you have any questions you can owl or floo your commander in Boston. I have full permission by the Federal Government of Magic to work within the borders of this country, within the laws of both nations. I hope you understand, Agent Daren." _Understand that attempting to bury me under red tape won't stop me from ripping up this department to find what exactly they are keeping from the Aurors, and what it has to do with Rose's disappearance. _

Daren understood, and Albus leaned back in his cousin's chair, staring out into the forest. _"_Where did you go, Rose?" He asked to the empty office. "What exactly did you find out there?"

* * *

The rumbling of the engine and the gently roll of the Impala had been the sounds of home to Dean for as long as he cared to remember. The snoring of his brother Sam, however, was moderately new. He glanced over at his gargantuan sibling and smirked, reaching to the dial on the stereo and flicked it as far as it would go.

The heavy sounds of a guitar solo smashed the previous ambience inside the Impala and Sam jerked awake, swearing loudly. He glared at Dean before smacking the power button and cutting of the sound. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Come on, Sammy, I was getting lonely." His grin cut any seriousness that may have been interpreted from those words and he pointed to the greying horizon. "It's time to get up, morning glory. That means research time…for you. What's the word on the dark and nasty?"

Sam continued his glare as he reached into the back seat and pulled a folder from his laptop case. "Some city called Ervin, California. Apparently three fraternity brothers have recently been killed in 'Accidents.'"

"Ghost?" Dean asked. The flat plains of Montana rolled out before them in a triumphant display of brown dirt and pale grass. The sun was rising, and the sky was growing bluer by the moment as the Impala sped along the lonely highway.

"Maybe, but the last guy….William Keiffer, died in a full weight room. Apparently the chains holding the bar he was benching snapped, and he was crushed by the weight."

Dean flinched. "Ouch."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. The other two…died in a car accident due to supposed break failure. Went careening off a cliff and into the ocean."

"Sounds like some dead chick have it out for the frat brothers." Dean nodded, and turned the music back on. Sam gave him a hard look before not-so discreetly turning it down.

"However there have been no reported deaths in the last three years for anyone related to the Zeta Gamma Phi, or missing persons, for that matter. They seem pretty clean."

Dean swiped the volume control until the sound of AC/DC filled the interior of the car. "You're the college boy, Sammy…you should know that fraternities are never clean. Now come on, we got some twenty hours driving and a bitch's bones to burn." Dean grinned at his brother's frustrated groan.

* * *

The first lesson in the Auror Academy was how to lie. For many of the brave Gryffindors and good-hearted Hufflepuffs, it was nearly the hardest lesson in their life. However, lying would soon become an essential element in their lives. In the worlds where Aurors walked, the truth wasn't good enough. Often they would need to assume the guise of someone more, or less, than themselves.

Rose kept the lesson in mind when she dressed the next day. She had hung up her uniform and instead donned a pair of shorts and a tank top she usually reserved for summer pajamas.

With her hair smoothed into a high pony-tail she left the loft and walked to the university, delighted for the opportunity to feel the warm sun on her skin even in the cool October weather. She had lived and worked in California for just over a month and already it was beginning to feel like a little slice of home. She considered Misty her friend even if the computer genius didn't know her secret identity, as well as Jimmy and Lindsey whose company helped break the dullness of work.

Despite what should have been domestic bliss, Rose felt intensely dissatisfied. Sitting down and doing nothing went against her nature as a Gryffindor and a Weasley. When she had opened the newspaper yesterday afternoon, Rose could not deny she had been hoping for something, anything to break the monotone that had become her life. She felt stuck, forced to live as a muggle when the witch in her screamed for Quidditch, dueling, and adventure. Yet in all of her searches through books (and that one terrifying encounter with the internet) Rose could not find a way to get home.

_So I am back to chasing illusions, I just hope this case is something real, and not just a figment of my desperate imagination. _Walking through the streets and watching the muggles that went through life so obliviously, Rose just wished she could do some good for the world again. She wanted to protect them from the shadows they had neither defense nor champion against. _I guess it's just the family business... _Rose mused, remembering her father's and uncles' stories about their adventures at Hogwarts…the restless look they got in their eyes when a vacation stretched for too long..._Saving people. _

The gym was surprisingly bustling at seven o'clock at night. It seems that even the recent accident didn't deter people from trying to impress each other. She approached the stuttering boy in a blue polo at the front desk and flashed him her forged Student ID.

"You have to swipe it." He said, standing and pointing to the red lights appearing from the machine by the computer.

Rose fingered the card and stared at the little barcode in the back with trepidation. _I hope Misty knows what she is doing. _She held the barcode underneath the red lights and the computer made a resounding beep.

The boy in the blue polo nodded and made a few clicks before ushering her into the gym. "You're all good."

"Oh." Rose smiled and slipped the card back into her 'purse,' the small bag her mother had given her for her birthday. It also contained her wand, knife, a supply of emergency potions, and her Auror robes. _One can never be too prepared. _

Rose approached the treadmill like it was a sleeping dragon. She stepped on to the platform, and terrified, observed the controls that resembled a computer. The witch gritted her teeth and spied on her neighbor from the corner of her eye. _Start button, right. _

_How long do I have to do this for to look socially acceptable? _Rose wondered, wiping sweat from her brow. Rose glanced at her time. _Ten minutes, oh Merlin, I have a problem. _She felt her knees protest as they absorbed her heavy footfalls. She groaned and hit the red button. The ground beneath her slowed to a stop and she stepped off shakily.

Rose closed her eyes and composed herself before drifting over to the weights. She picked up a pair that seemed to be of proper size and almost dropped them on her foot. _Fifteen pounds, what the…? _She growled and submitted to the five pounders, pumping them slowly against her shoulders as she drifted over to the taped off bench press.

The chains that had been attached to the bar were lying on the floor. Rose glance around the weight room and stepped closer, touching the smoothly dismembered links. _This was no accident. _When chain snapped, it tended to bend first, elongating the links before breaking in an uneven formation. _These had been cut straight. As if the murderer had used a slicing hex. _An extremely powerful one at that.

A shadow beneath the bench caught her eye she dropped to her knees. Running her hand along the inside edge her fingers hit soft leather, and she pulled out a tiny, leather pouch.

Rose frowned as she turned the strange object in her hand. It looked so foreign against the modern muggle world of rubber and iron.

"Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?"

Rose hurriedly tucked the pouch into her shoe and stood up straight. She mimed insipid countenance and spun around to face the boy in the blue polo. He looked up at her and his annoyed expression immediately began to soften. "Sorry, it's just…you can't really be over here, college rules."

"Is this where the accident occurred?" Rose asked quickly, cutting through his defenses.

The boy blinked. "Um, yeah."

"And are you Jason Zachary?" She searched him with sharp brown eyes, her impassiveness vanishing.

Her sudden intensity seemed to catch him off guard. Rose internally bared her teeth in victory. _Right where I want him. _"Um, yeah."

"So you saw it happen?"

"Well, no...Not really…I mean, I was watching YouTube and I heard the screams…it was terrible." He shuddered. "All that blood."

Rose rolled her eyes and slumped. So the 'eyewitness' wasn't much of a reliable source after all. _You already knew that, Weasley. _She could hear her Academy trainer whisper in her mind. The bulge in her shoe, however, reminded her she already had a substantial clue. "Well, thank you anyway. See you around Jason?" She said in her most pleasant voice as she walked away. On her way out she brushed against a man in a suit.

_Police. _Her mind supplied. _Better get out of here. _She didn't notice the way he turned around and looked her over, or the snappy head cuff his partner gave him.

* * *

Rose walked into the loft with the leather pouch gripped tightly in her hand. Misty was at her computer, sipping a steaming cup of whatnot and watching a black and white video. "Hello!" She shouted. Rose set her 'purse' down on the table. "Come here!"

Rose wandered over, but her thoughts were on the bag in her hand. "Look." Misty pointed to the screen. Rose stared at the moving pictures. It seemed like a pretty boring movie, there was no dialogue, no distinct characters, just people walking around picnic tables.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I hacked into the city security system. You would not _believe _where they hide these things. I had no idea Ervin even had the budget. I mean, I know it's not color, but look at that frame rate!" She hit a button and the scene changed to an empty road, and again, until Rose recognized the edge of the diner and the street beyond. Their street.

"Is this illegal?" Rose asked, pulling away.

Misty shrugged. "Only if I get caught. How was the gym?"

Rose shrugged and placed the leather bag on the counter. "Informative. Hey, Misty, can I tell you something and you'll promise not to laugh?" _Or shoot me, or kick me out, or hit me over the head with a frying pan and call an asylum. _

"I don't make promise I can't not be able to keep." The blonde held up three fingers. "But I will try."

Rose frowned and continued. _Merlin, I hope the Ministry isn't watching or I am never going to be an Auror again. But I need her._ "I'm a witch."

Misty put her hand down and stared at Rose with sharp blue eyes. "The wiccan or satanic kind?"

"What's a wiccan?" Rose asked, and shook her head. "Never mind. No, like a real, wand waving, incantation, results-producing witch. Here" She pulled her wand from her purse and turned the kitchen chair into a monkey. A capuchin, to be precise, she had always admired them in the markets of Diagon Alley.

It blinked, hopped around for a moment, before beginning a terrible screeching call. Rose winced. "_Silencio." _She murmured, flicking her wand.

Upon finding its voice removed, the monkey grabbed its mouth and turned to stare at her with wide brown eyes. "Sorry." Rose replied. "It's that you're just a chair."

Misty watched the show from her desk chair with an unreadable expression. Rose had expected shouts, screams, even thrown objects, but the loudest being in the room so far had been the chair-monkey.

She turned it back into its natural state and it clattered to the floor with an unusual quietness.

"I've never really liked monkeys." Misty murmured after several long moments of silence. "They gave me the willies. I'm a bit more of a cat person…except they sit on the keyboards and I've always found that very annoying."

"Do you believe me?" Rose wondered if she sounded desperate.

"Yeah, it's a bit hard not to believe you. But you aren't satanic, right? You didn't sell your soul or something to get your…ability?"

"No, I was born this way. Both my parents were magical…but my dad; he's a wizard, that's what they call guys with magic."

Misty nodded, taking in the information with a blank face. "Alright, but why are you telling me?"

Rose let out a long breath, and felt her body warm with relief. _That went well, thank Merlin. _"I need your help. Computer stuff…I honestly have no idea how they work."

Misty burst out in wide smile and raised her eyebrows.

"What?" Rose asked, as her roommate began to laugh.

Misty waved a weak hand in her direction. "It's just, you'd think, I mean, you have magic…surely you could." She gestured at the computer.

"Magic and technology don't go well together. It takes a special hand to combine the two."

"Oh." Misty nodded, swung around, and cracked her knuckles. "What can I do you for?"

Rose walked over and placed her hand on the back of her friend's chair. The computer screens winked with light around her. "I need everything you find about three boys, Ralph C. Harris, William Keiffer, and Aaron Paredes. They belonged to the fraternity…"

"Zeta Gamma Phi, I know, the memorial on the grounds is sort of hard to miss." Misty met her gaze in the refection of her screen. "What are you, some sort of Witch-Batman?"

"I don't know who that is." Rose said. "But I am an Auror, and I am doing my job."

"What the hell is an Auror?"

"It's a sort of…" Rose searched for the word. "Wizard cop."

"But you're British?"

Rose looked hard at her friend. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Shouldn't you be wizarding coping jolly old England?"  
Rose sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I was transferred here; it's a long story that'll tell you later over tea, perhaps? And why are you taking this so bloody well?"

Misty rolled her eyes. "You would be surprised what is on the internet if you search hard enough. You think you're the strangest thing I've ever encountered…well in real life you are I guess, but in cyberspace I've found things that will drive sane people caboodles. So what if you're Witch-Batman. At least you are Batman, and not the Joker."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't have to if I get it."

Rose raised her eyebrows and picked up the leather pouch. She threw away the string loosely tying the ends of the material together and examined the contents. Small bones, probably from a cat, a dried Yew flower, and dirt. Rose tasted the soil and spat it out immediately. _Grave dirt. Gross. _The last and perhaps most interesting piece of the pile was a small sprig of hair. As pictures of the victims appeared on the computer screens, Rose matched the dirty blonde color to that of William Keiffer.

"So it is black magic." She said out loud, her lips curving slowly. She placed the leather pouch and its contents in a plastic Ziploc and stowed it away in the fridge.

"Is _that _Satanic?" Misty asked, eyeing her actions with a disgusted grimace.

"I don't know what that means. However, where I come from it is a muggle's poor attempt at Dark magic, something completely different but usually with similar intentions." Rose straightened and began to pace. She felt _alive _again, back in the role she used to play in the Auror office. Usually it would be in front of a whole team of highly trained specialists, however Misty would do. "Muggles, you see, have long believed in magic. The non-believing is a rather recent occurrence. However, they have always seemed of the mind that magic could be done by anyone, and would often perform rituals in an attempt to channel their beliefs. Popular culture liked to call it _black _magic. But there is no such thing. Muggles never got anything out of it…it would take an actual witch or wizard to give any credence to their belief, and even then it was just a malicious joke played on innocent minds." She tapped the refrigerator door. "However, William Keiffer's death wasn't an accident, and I found _that _underneath the bench on which he died. Leading me to conclude," she paused in her pacing and stared directly at Misty, who was watching her like a star pupal watches a professor. "That Black magic in this world is very real indeed."

"Rose." Misty said slowly, her eyes turning to the ground.

"Yes?"

"What in hell is a muggle?"

Rose sighed and pinched her nose.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you to all who have been reading and sticking with me, I know my process of developing stories isn't very direct or conventional. Please review if you have any questions, comments, or critiques. If your question will be answered in the story down the line, I am afraid I will not respond, for the good of suspense. Thank you again, happy reading.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Often placed /_

_ Within his sanctuary itself their shrine, /_

_ Abominations; and with cursed things /_

_ His holy rites, and solemn feasts profaned, /_

_ And with their darkness durst affront his light."_

Book I: Lines 387-91 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Seven

"No EMF and no trace of sulfur." Dean relayed as they left the weight room. "Anything from Revenge of the Nerds?"

Sam ignored the slight and shook his head. "The kid admitted to not actually witnessing the event, but he didn't notice any cold spots or electrical surges."

Dean ground out an oath as they stopped beneath the shade of a tree. The sun was beginning to dip below the buildings, tracing the edges of the world in red and gold. "I thought for sure this was going to be a revenge-kicked spook. Now what are we thinking?"

The younger Winchester shrugged and watched the students drift around campus. His eye caught on a very large display of flowers and candles in the middle of the commons. He tapped his brother on the shoulder and they casually strolled over, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Dean doubted Sammy would ever truly succeed, considering his Sasquatch like appearance. He couldn't resist smiling at a group of girls as they passed on the sidewalk. One of them gave him the come-hither look that sent his senses flaring. _Hmm. College._

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed toward a sign propped up against the memorial. It was made out of wood and professional engraved. _Future fountain to be dedicated by Donald A. Keiffer, Dean of Students, in the memory of his beloved son William Keiffer. _"The victim was the Dean's son."

"So?"

"Well it can't be a coincidence, right?"

Dean spread his hands. "I don't know, maybe. People die every day, Sammy, no matter who they are related to." It sounded dangerously like a double entendre. Sam gritted his teeth and ignored it, deeming the time not suitable for a discussion of Dean's little problem.

"Here," he sat down on the grass and opened his laptop, trusting the technology school to have Wi-Fi everywhere. He was in luck. Quickly bypassing the security measures he logged into the internet and looked up the names of the other victims. "Paredes' uncle was the former Police Commissioner, who apparently retired just after his nephew's death. And," he flipped the computer around to show Dean a small article on the boy, Raph Harris, who was grinning and holding up an award. "Harris's grandfather is the Chief Editor of the Ervin Herald, the local newspaper. All men of power and apparently all alumni of the Zeta Gamma Phi fraternity."

Dean squinted at the picture before nodding sharply and standing straight. "Alright, not a coincidence."

"Apparently the killer is targeting boys' whose relatives are Ervin VIPs."

Dean pursed his lips in thought as he stared into the horizon or perhaps at that girl in the mini skirt across the commons, Sam couldn't tell. "So if this is a revenge thing why not…"

* * *

"…Go after the men themselves?" Rose asked, gazing at Misty from her place on the couch. "Why the boys?"

"Perhaps it is just a coincidence." The blonde closed down the articles and spun in her chair, resting her head on her hands and leaning on her knees. She looked thoughtfully into the distance. The loft was relatively quiet as the city of Ervin slipped into night. London had flown off on a hunting trip, leaving the women alone with their contemplations. Misty had spent the better part of an hour pulling up leads on the victims in what she had called 'The Mysterious Case of Dying Douche-bags.' Rose hadn't really questioned the name, as Misty probably knew more about the victims than their own families at that point. _'When it comes to the internet, privacy is a farce, Rose.' _Misty had lectured as she tapped fervently on the plastic keys.

"Nothing is a coincidence." Rose said. "Not in my line of work."

"Alright, Batman." Misty smiled and rolled her eyes. "Does that make me Alfred? Because that is freaking awesome."

Rose hadn't admitted her ignorance of the man (part bat, apparently) that Misty kept referring to, but it seemed to make her friend happy so she didn't protest. "I simply mean we cannot disregard any details. I've made enough mistakes in the last year, gotten good people killed, to learn that."

Misty's smile disappeared as her face became grave. "You mentioned something of the sort when we first met. Do you want to…I don't know…elaborate?"

_How could I tell her anything without her thinking poorly of me? _Rose gritted her teeth and admitted that Misty had done more than her share for Rose; she deserved a little more truth about who she was living with. "I was merely a glorified consultant in my department, banned from the field by my commander, a wizard who happened to also be my uncle. I had suspicions that he had made a deal with my mother to protect me by keeping me from the front. A couple of months ago I received a case about a werewolf, and, restless as I was, tried to convince myself and my uncle that it was unusual enough to need my presence. He gave me orders to stay in my place and I disobeyed them. I was so distracted by my own grievances I didn't do my job properly and I over looked a couple of clues. Well, those clues happened to be the meaning of life and death for part of my team. Four men died, six were hospitalized, including my cousin. I ended up killing the werewolf myself, but the worst had been done. My uncle transferred me to an American division here in California, as punishment, I suppose. If he hadn't, the Ministry would have forced me to resign."

Misty was quiet as she took in the tale. After several moments of weighted silence she spoke. "Just how many…of your people are out there?"

Rose shrugged. "In my world? Thousands in Great Britain, millions across the globe. We keep ourselves hidden from muggles. Most countries have a form of government and a school system. I went to Hogwarts, probably the best on the planet." Rose couldn't help the pride that slipped into her description.

"And werewolves?"

"Everything you've ever read about and more. Dragons, unicorns, griffins, mermaids, and yes, werewolves. But they aren't the monsters people think them as. Most are just ordinary people who go furry once a month, but there are always bad apples I presume. It was part of my job to learn everything I could about the dark creatures of my world, so that I might prepare those who deal with them first hand." It rolled out of her mouth like hot water. Rose didn't stop to wonder if she was actually getting through to Misty or if the woman merely thought her mental.

Misty opened her mouth, and then shut it quickly, furrowing her brow in concentration as she tried again. "Why do you keep saying, 'my world?'"

Rose licked her lips and looked away from her friend as she tried to formulate an answer. "I don't think," she began, and wrung her hands in frustration. How was she supposed to explain something that she didn't understand herself? "That this is the same universe as the one I was in a few months ago. Something happened…I don't really know what. I woke up one day and suddenly everything I had ever read about, grown up with…it was gone. Or never existed, I don't know."

The look on Misty's face lightened the tension. Startling enough, the way her smile widened, her blue eyes light up, Rose could only explain it as triumph. "Well that is something that _I _understand, at least. That's just science, Batman, not magic. You have obviously been transported to a parallel reality that in some unseen context deviated from your own, producing similar environments that are not necessary the same. Case in point, magic. You had it, this world has it, same thing, different method of expression." The woman looked oddly smug as she leaned back in her chair. "Physicists have been theorizing this crap for decades. _Muggle _physicists."

Rose grinned. There was a gap between them for sure, and not one of different nationalities. For a long time, Rose had felt as if she was treading in deep water, living in the muggle world was _not _easy. When one had to explain to the other the particularities of their respective worlds, it seemed to make up for all the stuff they _didn't _get. "Score one for your team, I guess. Anyway, let's get back to the case."

"Not before you tell me why you can't get home."

The witch sighed. "Whatever sent me here was left on the other side, and I'm not really sure what it was to begin with. I've tried, believe me have scanned all my books in trying to find something, anything, to point me home, but I haven't. So I'm stuck here, and I'm trying to make the best of it…do the job I was trained for."

Misty nodded. "That is really, _really _cool Rose. I would have had a mental breakdown…but you, your freaking brave."

"That's me," Rose replied. "Gryffindor through and through. Now the case?" She doubted Misty would have done anything of the sort, of course. Bravery was one thing, but intelligence could take a person very far indeed.

The computer genius saluted her roommate and turned back to her place of worship. "If you are right…and it's not just some wild coincidence, then obviously there is a reason for this revenge, right? Something the boys did, specifically of that frat. Maybe someone got hurt, it was their fault, and their big-wig alumni relatives thought to cover it up?"

Rose nodded her eyes thoughtful. "It would explain why the story was only a third page blurb in the newspaper, usually these calamities are massive. Someone didn't want a big uproar over the deaths, attracting too much attention. But whatever it was that Zeta Gamma did, it would have to be big, more than just a broken heart or a case of vandalism. Probably murder or…" Her throat closed, and she had to push the word out even though it weighed a thousand pounds. "rape."

Misty looked grim. "If the victim went to the hospital…I don't know what I can do. A lot of those records are still done on paper. I'll try."

The witch pushed herself from the couch and started to pace the room. "No…no. I'll go to the hospital after work tomorrow, see what I can scrounge up, things like that. You…you should keep looking for Zeta Gamma Phi connections, I have a feeling that whoever is playing the vengeance card won't stop with three."

"If you can find names of possible victims, I can connect them to the frat. Zeta Gamma is huge on campus; they would have registered their parties and the people that signed in." Misty cracked her knuckles and stood up, shaking the tension from her shoulders. "Tomorrow, I've got a quiz in the morning that I need to study for, and you need sleep. You don't look so good."

Rose rubbed her forehead and looked toward the door. "I think I'm going to be up for a couple of hours. Is it alright if I place a protective ward around the flat? It will keep out the uninvited." The talk about the case made her feel vulnerable. In truth, the witch had itched to carve her protective runes into the doorway since the day she moved in, but could never find a practical excuse to give to Misty. With that element eliminated, maybe she could sleep in peace.

Misty gave a sleepy concession and Rose waved her goodnight, waiting for the door to shut before palming her wand. She closed her eyes and steeled herself. If she was going to draw rune wards, Rose figured she might as well make them powerful…as powerful as she could devise. Hopefully it would not interfere with the muggle systems, but Rose was willing to take the chance. Muggle locks were so easily broken after all.

* * *

Getting back to work made Rose realize how boring waitressing was. Compared to Black magic, conspiracies, and revenge plots, serving people coffee and writing down orders for greasy hamburgers was just plain rubbish. Her skin itched for the bite of adrenaline researching gave her, and her eyes drifted to the clock, whose hands ticked slower and slower at every glance. Misty had already given her the directions to the hospital from the diner, and the papers were burning a hole in the pocket.

_I need the money. _She tried to reason with the little part of her that screamed for her to throw away her apron and hit the streets. Rose briefly wondered how Misty was keeping the rent in the flat; she had never thought to ask the woman. Rose had never heard her roommate mention a job or even an inheritance, which lead the witch to think (and leave unsaid) the suspicion that excellent computer skills came in handy more ways than one.

The diner was relatively full, and the chattering noise ate at her patience to a point where she relinquished the duty of patrolling the booths and ducked into the kitchen. Jimmy was sweating over the stove; Greg was nowhere to be seen.

Lindsey had hiked herself on the spice cabinet and was watching the cook with a soft smile and eyes like stars. She was very pretty, with a Scandinavian complexion and the warmest laugh Rose had ever heard. As she watched, Jimmy stole glances at the girl from the corner of his eye. The witch had never seen two people more in love and just as equally in denial about it.

Rose sighed loudly and both young people jumped. Lindsey blushed and slid off the counter, straightening her red dress. It fit her better than it did Rose, but the witch was still under the opinion that it was hideous. "I'm so sorry!" Lindsey exclaimed. "I haven't been helping!"

Rose waved a dismissive hand. "No big deal, it's louder than it is busy." She stole a glance out the cook's portal to the bar. The diner itself was rather ugly, with a theme of stainless steel and black and white checkered floors. It was supposed to mimic an American 1950's establishment, but instead it was ended up gaudy.

"Hey, you wouldn't know anything about Zeta Gamma Phi, would you?" She asked on a whim.

Lindsey shook her head. "No, that's an Ervin Tech frat. We usually don't mix." Rose nodded, remember her coworker mentioning being a member an art college sorority. She hoped to Merlin it wasn't as messed up as Zeta Gamma.

Rose looked back toward the diner and saw two patrons at the door waiting to be seated. She left the kitchen, placing a bill on a table as she passed, and intended to greet the two who seemed to take in _Pop's _with a tired expression. Rose took a moment to size them up, not really expecting two men of all things to look so regrettably comfortable in a cheesy, back corner diner. One was very tall, but his face was younger than his counterpart. He had long hair and a computer bag tucked under one arm, Rose reminded herself to tell him about the free Wi-Fi. The other was tan with hazel eyes and had the same aristocratic face most purebloods still fancied, where years of selective breeding had trimmed undesirable traits. _Physical at least, they can't seem to solve the crazy part. _

The longer she looked, the more the two men gave her the 'willies' as Misty would say. Two men often didn't travel together, unless they were gay or coworkers. _Cops._ They were certainly dressed the part with suits and ties. _That doesn't feel right either. _The way they moved, looking around the diner, casually echoing each other's tiny motions… _That's how dad and Uncle Harry act around each other. _Brothers, the men were brothers. The recognition was cheering as she stepped forward, placing a false smile on her face. "Welcome to Pop's, how help you?"

The short one seemed not to register her presence at first, but when he did his sly smile was automatic. Rose shifted, uncomfortable, and clutched the plastic lined menus tighter to her chest. Her hands itched for her wand to hex that absolutely _disgusting _leer right off the man's face. He opened his mouth….no doubt to tell her _exactly _what she could help him with, when the other man cut in with a sharp look toward his brother.

"Yes, table for two, please?"

"Right this way." She led them toward the corner booth where the teenagers had snoggd a couple of days ago. _Serves him right. _"I'm Rose," _I really don't want him knowing my name. "_I'm your server today. Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Just water, for me." The tall one said.

"A beer." The other intruded with that bloody awful smile still on his face.

"Is Labatt alright with you?"

"That's just fine, sweetheart."

_Ugh. _"Coming right up." She smiled and danced away, her skin crawling. _I need the money. _Rose reminded herself.

* * *

"Dude." Sam exclaimed, disgusted.

Dean had a dreamy look on his face. "She was beautiful. Did you hear that accent?" He shivered in pleasure. That hair flashed through his head like a fire storm. He wondered if it was as soft as it seemed, or wiry as the copper it imitated.

"Reminded me too much of Bella, to be honest." Sam said, and Dean made a face, all fantasies of red hair and chocolate brown eyes flying out his ears to be replaced with the grating nightmare of a cold blue stare and brown tresses.

"Why did you _always_ have to remind me about that bitch?" He shook his head, and tried to focus on how different Rose's voice had been-less condescending and more genuine. "Have a crush, Sammy?"

"No." Red stained his brother's cheeks. "The case, Dean."

"Yes, yes." As much as he would like to dream about their waitress (who seemed familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he had seen her before) he did have a job. If it was a much more unpleasant alternative. "Witches." A small shudder ran through him at the thought. "I freaking hate them, Sammy. Always spewing bodily fluids everywhere, it turns a man's stomach."

Sam nodded. "Not to mention they could be anyone…they _are _human, after all. But they are big on revenge, and hex bags are easy to remove. So if the witch was smart and wanted to cover her tracks..."

"She would have taken the hex bag from the weight room the minute it did its job, which is why I wouldn't have found one." Dean finished. _Where is Rose? _He looked toward the kitchen hopefully, wondering why a woman like _that _would be working in a low-brow place like this. She didn't seem the type.

"Considering how public the room was, it would have been pretty easy." The younger Winchester opened his laptop. "Good, they have free internet here."

His brother was such a nerd. "There has to be a motive." Dean continued. "Who ever got screwed is taking it out on the boy's with influential families. Would you put that thing away? We are going to eat!"

"Leading me to believe that the boys did something wrong and the relatives used their power to cover it up. And no, I won't. You're not the boss of me, jerk."

Dean watched as a blonde dropped their drinks. She was pretty, but nothing compared to the ginger beauty hiding in the kitchen. He took a sip of his beer and wondered if he had scared her away. She didn't look like the type to be frightened so easily. "So we won't find anything in the papers or police records. So we are going to need to go right to the center of this thing, bitch."

"I'll pull up a membership list of Zeta Gamma; see if we can't get one of the members to give us some information about who they may have made into a very powerful enemy." Sam noted the change in waitress and looked toward the swinging kitchen doors. Perhaps it had been the English accent, or her subtle analysis, at any rate something about the red-head turned him off. Dean might have been too distracted to pay attention to his instincts, Sam wasn't. He recognized trouble when he saw it.

* * *

Rose leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she debated showing her face at the brother's table again. _Damn the tip_. Cold plastic shoved into her hands by a stoic Arnold, their mysterious dishwasher, eradicated any possible decision. He was forty years old with a shiny bald head and eyes that never held any expression. He never spoke to any of them either, responding to questions or requests with muffled grunts. Lindsey liked to imagine he was Greg's estranged half-brother who had been raised in an attic like an animal when they were children. Slightly concerned that the story was a possibility in the muggle world, Rose had Misty look into the man's background on her computer.

He was actually divorced as of ten years, and lived alone in a basement flat downtown. He owned two cats, judging by his vet bills, and liked to frequent the local bookstore, where he often spent hundreds of dollars on mystery thrillers. Why he never talked to them, Rose couldn't say, but the witch had been relieved that he hadn't been raised in an attic. She hadn't told Lindsey what she had found, the girl got too much of a kick out of her little story and it wouldn't change Arnold's attitude anyway.

She raised the receiver to her ear and whispered "Hello?"

"Rose?" Misty called over on the other line. "Can you speak up?"

_I don't think I've ever used a telephone before. _"Um, HELLO?!" Jimmy jumped in shock by the stove, and turned to give her a weird look.

"Too loud, Batman." Misty laughed, although it sounded a bit strangled.

"Sorry, is this good?" Rose said, frightened she had done something dreadful to the wiring by shouting so loud.

"Yeah. Listen girl, I know you like to use the Pony express and all, but we need to get you a cell phone."

"Magic and technology don't…"

"Mix, I know, but there has to be some other way I can get in touch with you besides calling work. How am I supposed to be your Alfred if you are always out of reach?"

"I'll think of something." Perhaps she could invent the first wizard cellphone. That would be a hoot with the youngsters in Hogwarts. "Why did you call me on the telephone?"

"I just wanted to update you on the situation before you go to the hospital. The director is Ted Howler…and the chief of surgery is Jacob Banes. Both have sons that go to Ervin, both are members of Zeta Gamma. They might be part of this. Ervin General is the only medical center in town, they would have tremendous influence. I've found others….but nothing I can't tell you later. Over and out, Batman."

"Goodbye, Misty."

The girl snorted on the other end. "Please, just call me Alfred."

The line disconnected before Rose could remind her friend that Alfred was a boy's name. _I cannot tell if I am the one being completely oblivious, or she is. _Rose tried not to think it was her, and decided that if the time was had, she would look up this 'Bat-Man' in the local muggle library. She hated not knowing things.

* * *

Stepping into the back door of Ervin General reminded Rose that she hated hospitals, muggle and magical like. The smell of disinfectant, the harsh lighting, it brought back memories that the witch would rather leave behind. _The job, Rose, concentrate on the job. _She reminded herself.

"Can I help you?"

Rose jolted to a stop and turned toward the voice. Her wand was slipped up her sleeve, and she let it drop into her hand. Keeping it behind her back she turned, placing a smile on her face. A man still gawky from puberty stood with arms crossed over his chest. The white lab coat gave him more confidence than his physique allowed. Rose squinted at the badge pinned to his pocket. _Neil Banes. Hospital director's son. Student at Ervin Tech and member of Zeta Gamma…possible victim. _"Yeah…I was just looking for a friend of mine? She got admitted a couple of weeks ago, and I keep getting turned around, this place is like a maze."

He smiled and sidled a little closer. The lights were not complimentary on his face, deepening the crow's feet and valleys made by his high cheek bones. When he smiled, he looked like a skull. "It took me months get used to it myself." He held out a hand. "Neil Banes, I'm an intern here."

"My name's Lily. Banes? Like..?"

He fanned modesty as he took in the hallway with genuine familiarity. "Yeah. My dad's the director." His eyebrows waggled and he slowly backed her up against the wall. He probably thought she was impressed. A rich kid, too high on his horse to see the quick sand beneath its hooves. "Let's just say…I can get away with _a lot." _

Rose smirked and placed her left hand on his chest. She could see the scratches on his bifocals. Her wand hand twitched. "I bet."

He looked her up and down, his smile widening. "That's a very interesting coat."

She had donned her Auror robes over a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Rose felt more comfortable within their worn leather folds than any other piece of clothing she had. On her left arm her winged patch and embodied unicorn was a hearty reminder of what she had lost, yet Rose could not shake the pride she felt every time she put on the uniform. "It's vintage."

"I like it, very bad ass. How about I take you on a little tour, huh? Maybe we can find your 'friend' along the way. What is her name?"

"_Confundo." _Rose murmured and flicked her wand. Befuzzlement crossed Neil's face, and he shuddered. "I don't think that really matters, does it?" Rose continued.

"No, I guess it doesn't." He took her by the hand just as Rose slipped the wand back into its forearm holster. "Come on Lilly, I'll show you _everything." _

_ Oh Merlin. _Rose rolled her eyes and allowed Neil to lead her down the hall. _Misty is going to laugh her arse off when I tell her about this._

* * *

The apartment building was equally sad as the one around it, the sagging roof, and the paint chipped all giving it a neglected feel. Dean observed the cheap plastic Santa that stood on the porch with apprehension as Sam knocked on the door. "This place sucks, why the hell would you choose to live here?"

Sam shrugged. "It's cheap I suppose, most of the college kids live in this neighborhood." He knocked again. "Mike Anderson, Taylor Greene, and Garfield Bianchi live here, all members of Zeta Gamma, all juniors."

"Anyone particularly interesting?"

"You mean related to anyone in town? No…but it was the closest house so I thought we might try." He reached to knock again when the door opened to reveal a brunette girl dressed in only a tank-top and boxers. She grimaced in the afternoon light and held up a hand to block the sun. "Hello?"

Dean and Sam flashed their badges. "FBI, can we speak to Mike Anderson?"

The girl had the decency to be embarrassed as she turned around. "MIKE!" She screamed, retreating back into the house as blush stained her cheeks. "People want to see you!"

Dena grimaced at her tone and raised his eyebrows at Sam. "Classy. Remind me to look for openings on Craigslist."

The younger Winchester sniggered as they lingered outside the door. A tall boy with thick black glasses and red freckles to match his hair stumbled down the stairs and took the pair in with a frown. His t-shirt was rumbled and his jeans were stained.

"Laundry day?" Dean joked. Mike did not look amused.

"What do you want?"

They showed the boy their badges. "This is Special Agent Richards, I'm Special Agent Jones. We are here to inquire about William Keiffer's death."

The boy took off his glasses and cleaned the smudged lenses with his shirt. He seemed a bit…frazzled, raising Dean's suspicions. "I thought Will's death was an accident."

"We try to cover all the bases." Sam explained.

"Oh." Funny how people just bought that.

"Did Will have any enemies…anyone that may have wanted to hurt him?" Dean asked.

Mike shook his head. "Not…not that I know of. He was pretty popular."

Sam nodded, "We understand."

Dean pushed through the boy's confusion, ignoring Sam's slight protest. Something about the boy, maybe it was the way he stood, one hand on the door the other on the frame, ready to close it in a moment's notice, or the shifty look in his eyes as he glanced beyond them to the street. What could scare a college boy (who no doubt as smoked weed and downloaded illegal porn) more than the FBI? "How about your fraternity? Zeta Gamma Phi, is it? Any reason someone might target the members recently?"

Mike stilled and he looked directly at Dean. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Horse shit. "Can't think of anyone? Someone who might want revenge?" Dean knew he was revealing a bit too much, but he was so close to something, he could feel it. Sam gave him an odd look.

Mike licked his lips and shuffled his feet. "Alright, just, off the record, okay? I didn't tell you this. There might be someone."

"Who?"

"A grad student…girl. Look…I can't tell you much. She was pretty, red hair, some kind of plant hippie name. One of the guys might have…roughed her up at a party…she had to go to the hospital I guess, but we aren't supposed to tell anyone. Please…I'm transferring next semester, I don't need any trouble. I just joined the frat for networking, I'm not even from Ervin, I live in Pennsylvania."  
Sam touched the boy on the shoulder. The gesture did not cause Mike's paranoia to grow wings and fly away. "We will keep your identity anonymous. Thank you for your corporation. If you ever need anything, feel threatened in anyway, call us." He flipped him a faux business card with one of their many cellphone numbers printed with the FBI logo.

Mike hurriedly shut the door and Dean walked down the steps, deep in thought. The Impala was parked across the street. "That was weird."

"He said the hospital. If the girl checked in, we can find her name, address."

"If it is her." Dean said to himself. "Why go to through the pains to cover this up? Why not just let the guy get caught?"

"May be they didn't want the frat to lose its reputation. Half the town's important men belonged to Zeta Gamma, if this broke out into the public; it would lose its prestige."

The hunter scowled and turned on the ignition. The thought of a girl getting 'roughed up' turned his stomach. Dean liked women, and he knew that he always didn't treat them in the way they deserved, but he damn well respected their free will. "Prestige." He spat. "People like that don't deserve two cents and the clothes on their back."

The engine roared to life and they sped away, Sam in the passenger seat, his air as sour as a Dean's.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to my readers, as always, and a special thanks to all my reviewers! If I was less lazy, I'd list you all here, but it you are reading this you know who you are. (Give yourself a self-high five, you deserve it.) If you have a very specific question for me, a private message is always appreciated. Anyway, remember to review with any critiques, questions, or general comments!


	8. Chapter 8

"_With this advantage then /_

_To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, /_

_More than can be in heaven, we now return /_

_To claim our just inheritance of old, /_

_Sureer to prosper and prosperity /_

_Could have assured us."_

Book II: Lines 35-40 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Eight

Rose had never quite fathomed the size of Muggle hospitals. St. Mungo's might have been the biggest wizard medical facility in all of Northern Europe, but Ervin General would have swallowed it. The hospital was a leviathan of twisting hallways, glass doors, and frazzled nurses giving the pair dirty looks as they wandered by. To his credit, Neil kept his hands to hers and was genuinely excited when he showed her each little corner of his father's kingdom.

Along the way Neil began to explain his career goals, how he wished to go to medical school in New York, and one day run a hospital of his own. The more she witnessed his tiny nuances, the way he touched the bald heads of the pediatric cancer patients and grasped the wrinkled fingers of the bedridden old, Rose began to understand just how good of a doctor the strange, gangly boy could be when he matured.

"And these are the coma patients. The ones who cannot afford private arrangements." He pressed a button and the door slid open to show a dimly lit room. The hum and beep of machines filled the void that the occupants left in their death-like state. The door shut behind them as Rose wandered further in, her fingers tracing over blanketed feet. The room was chilly, and Rose wondered if they could feel it, the still people, so lost in their dreams they could not wake.

In the last bed lay a girl, her complexion marred with a yellowing bruise. Her sleep, if one could really call it that, seemed to rest ill on her face; her lips were turned in a frown that would not disappear in the regular shifting of human emotion. Sadness filled Rose as she picked up the girl's chart, noting the dying asphodel flowers by her bedside. _For restful sleep. _A key ingredient in the Draught of Living Death. "Holly Arcos." She recited. "What happened to her?"

"Car accident, I think." Neil placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around. He pulled her tight against his chest and looked down into her eyes. His breath smelled like peppermint gum and peanut butter. Before Rose could protest she tasted his dinner, from the raspberry jelly to the bitter taste of cheap beer. His lips where soft, if a bit wet, and he pressed them against hers, begging her to open up to him.

_AH! _Rose screamed internally, her mind suddenly catching up to the fact that Neil Banes was trying to snog her. She reached up and placed her hands on his chest, knowing she had let the light teasing go too far, and attempted to push him away. The boy seemed to take this as an invitation to swipe his tongue across her lips and Rose pulled a face, gripping his shoulders tightly and yanked his head away from hers.

She glowered at his confused (and slightly distracted) expression and stepped back, keeping Neil at an arm's length. Her lips were tingling, an unwelcome if not unpleasant, sensation. She continued her glare as she touched them, finding them swollen beneath the tips of her fingers.

"What?" He asked finally and Rose opened her mouth to lecture him when she realized they weren't the only conscious beings in the room. Rose felt heat travel to the roots of her hair, and turned to face the rather incensed woman who'd no doubt seen Neil's attempt at seduction and found it just as revulsive as Rose.

"What do you think you are doing by my daughter?" The woman hissed through her teeth. Her hair was the same wine hue as Holly's.

There was no explanation Rose could give that would justify their previous actions to the grieving mother. She looked to Neil, for he was the intern and an authority in the hospital, but he was staring at the woman with recognition.

"Professor Warren?" He asked.

The woman nodded sharply. "Yes." The flowers were trembling in her hand. "Holly is _my _daughter. Get out."

"But…"

"GET OUT!"

Rose put out a hand to calm the enraged woman. "Alright, ma'am, we didn't mean any offence. We are leaving." The woman seemed to really register Rose's presence and she paused, the rage freezing on her face.

"Who are you?"  
"Lily." Rose answered; giving the same name she had Neil.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Liar."

_Interesting. _Rose was trained in deception. In a plain wool business suit Professor Warren should not have had the skills to look past her dishonesty. Rose looked a bit harder at the woman who was beginning to feel less like a heartbroken mother and more of an object of concern. There was nothing that particularly stood out about her appearance, but Rose could sense the rage in her, more than any normal person could contain. There was power in that anger, a bottomless pit in her heart where black passion roiled and bled into her every movement.

Rose locked gazing with the professor who stared with equal fierceness, one hand crushing the stems of her flowers, the other white-knuckling the strap of her purse.

Rose was the first to break the stare, conscious of the thudding in her chest. "Let's go." She said to Neil, and the intern nodded. As Neil tried to squeeze by the woman, she placed a hand over his heart and looked him in the eyes. "If I ever see you near my daughter again, you will regret it."

The boy gulped and hurried away, Rose followed at his side, gripping her wand.

"That was awful." Neil complained, slowing as they reached the front entrance to the hospital. A woman in floral scrubs rushed by and a child was screaming in the corner, clutching the sleeve of an exasperated mother. Two men in suits waited by the desk where a receptionist was on the phone.

Rose recognized them as the brothers from the diner, and she hurriedly turned her back. "Yes…" She feigned a sob and Neil rushed around to comfort her. She pulled up immediately, wiping her eyes. "I'm alright, it's just…that poor girl, just imagine how her mother is feeling." _What are they doing here?_

Neil's mouth twisted. "I can't imagine Professor Warren feeling anything, really."

"You know her?" Rose asked. _Merlin, I hope they didn't see me. _

"Yeah, she's teaches Medical Botany at Ervin tech…I took it as an elective last year and she was such a bitch. I had no idea she was Holly's _mother. _No wonder the girl was a hermit."

Rose tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows. Thoughts of the brothers flew out the window. "You knew Holly?"

Neil looked embarrassed and he cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, I mean, we're in the same year. She's in pre-med with me." He tugged on the collar of his shirt. "Hey is it hot in here?"

_What is he hiding? _"No…" The constant opening and closing of the door to the night air created a pleasant cross breeze. Rose was glad she had brought her robe.

Sweat began to drip from his short cropped hair and onto his lab coat. His face was turning a cherry red and he tugged harder, the shirt beneath his coat was beginning to darken with perspiration. Rose frowned and stepped back. _That isn't normal. _

Before she could react, Neil let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground. He convulsed, ripping at his clothes until Rose could see the steam rise from his body. She turned to call for the nurses, who were staring at the scene with wide eyes, when a flash of heat ripping by her face and she dove to the floor, covering her head with her hands.

The world slid into slow motion as Rose picked herself up. Someone was screaming, people rushing, citizens, personal, one had a fire extinguisher, but they were too late. _I was too late. _All that remained of Neil was a blackened lab coat packed with ashes. _Spontaneous combustion. _Rose bent over the remains of the intern and touched the place where his name had been embroidered in blue thread. _He would have made such a good doctor. _A flame freezing charm might have saved his life. _Why didn't I see the signs?_

Her fingers touched a bulge in the loose folds of the coat and she retrieved the offending object. A small leather pouch, like the one she had taken off the bench in the weight room. _Where had it come from? _Rose would have noticed its shape when fending off Neil.

_"If I ever see you near my daughter again, you will regret it."_

_Professor Warren. _Holly was the victim. Holly was the girl Zeta Gamma Phi victimized. Her mother was taking revenge on the people who covered it up. _Because Holly's in a coma, she probably doesn't know who actually did it. She needs justice. An eye for an eye. A child for a child. _

Rose ran, her boots sliding over the laminate floor. Her wand was in her hand, nurses and doctors where rushing against her, toward the screaming of women and alarms. The coma room seemed like another world in comparison. There was no time, no chaos. Just the progression of age. Rose slumped when she reached the last bed, where Holly lay like sleeping beauty, alone with only fresh asphodel flowers in her company.

* * *

"Rose." Dean exclaimed in disgust. "The waitress. She's the witch. "

Sam held up both hands. "We both saw her pull the hex bag from Neil's pocket; she's got the MO. Plant name…"

"Red hair I know. I remember her from the weight room at the college. She was probably removing the hexbag from when she ganked Keiffer." Dean scowled as the city lights swept by. He had watched her run away, disappearing before he could even react. She had seemed so…innocent in the diner, but that was the catch with witches, they were the ones you'd least suspect. _Those frat boys, what could they have to turn a girl like that?_ Something clenched in the pit of his stomach. The way he had ogled her in the restaurant as if she was just another piece of flesh. Dean felt dirty in a way that had nothing to do with her being a witch. Every once and a while Dean found, deep down, he deserved to go to hell. _Just not now, not so soon. _"We need to find out where she lives." He said tiredly.

"I figure the diner will have employee records. Dean, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine." The way he always wanted to '_talk about their feelings' _Dean was sometimes inclined to believe his brother had lady parts. The hunter had slept with girls that had more balls than Sammy…which sounded wrong even in his head. _I'll keep that one to myself. _

"Does it have something to do with this case…with Rose? You didn't go after her in the hospital."

"What was I going to do, gank the bitch in front of the cancer kids? There is something called subtly, Sam, look it up."

The only patron inside the diner was an old man watching the Powerball numbers on the TV. As soon as Dean and Sam looked into the portal to the kitchen, the blonde waitress appeared holding two menus.

"You guys can eat, but we're closing in an hour."

"Lindsey was it?' Den asked, flashing his badge. She took a step back, startled.

"We are here to inquire about your coworker, a girl called Rose?" Sam folded his arms across his chest. Dean tried to look suitably federal, but his eyes couldn't help but wander over the cheesy décor. What kind of witch worked in a place like this? _A poor college student paying medical bills. _His mind supplied, heart thudding loudly as he fought the automatic clenching of his hands. _She's a witch Dean…she's killed people. She deserves to get ganked. _Why wasn't he convinced? For that matter, why was Sammy? He was usually the one to voice that touchy feely crap.

"Um, can I ask what for?" The girl stuttered, her head turning back toward the kitchen. A young man stood in the window, a frown on his face. He pushed open the doors, wiping his hands on his stripped pants and bundled up a stained cotton apron.

"Lindsey? Who are these guys?" He placed and arm about her shoulders and drew the waitress close against his side. The cook's face was fierce as he glared at the brothers.

"Jimmy, this is the FBI, they're asking about Rose."

"Rose? What for? Look…She hasn't done anything; Rose is as good a person as any…better probably."

Sam sighed. "We just need her home address. We think she might have information regarding the recent deaths at Ervin Tech."  
"Zeta Gamma?" Lindsey furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought those were accidents."

"We are trying to cover all bases."

The man at the bar burped loudly as the woman on the screen recited the final number. He slid off the stool and the bell on the door jingled as he left. Jimmy followed the man's exit with his eyes before snapping back to Sam and Dean "I'm sure Rose knows nothing. Now get out."

The girl placed a hand on the boy's chest. "Jimmy, they're the cops." She turned back to the brothers. "She lives in an apartment just down the street. One of the old brownstones. I can't remember the exact number…but the second floor had window boxes with red flowers. I pass it on my way to work. Her roommate's name is Misty; she comes in time to time before class."

Of course she had a roommate. "Thank you for her cooperation." Sam nodded and pulled on Dean's arm and he followed willingly, wishing to put the witch's concerned friends behind them. _Friends. _He never thought about if the monster's they hunted had friends, unless it was the 'I want to eat you for revenge' kind. Humans had friends…normal people had friends.

_We don't have friends. _He wondered if Sam had left people like this at Stanford, people who gave a shit if you didn't show up for a couple of weeks, people who fucking cared. The only two Dean had were Sam and Bobby, and they barely counted. _Why can't I have friends for a change?_

* * *

A helpful elderly woman taking her dog out for a pee opened the door and pointed them in the upwards. '_Misty alright, and Rose…I've only met her once, a good girl, very nice, invited me for tea once. I didn't come of course, with the elevator broken; my old knees don't like the climb. Hope she's not in too much trouble.' _

Dean was sick of hearing about how good of a Samaritan their hunt was. Made the line between black and white blur, which wasn't ideal when his finger was on the trigger. They knocked on the door of the loft. Dean noticed Sam palming the butt of his gun. A muffled shout came from beyond the door.

"Rose? Are you back from the hospital? Look…I found something out about a guy called Lance Hemmingway. He's the mayor's son, and you guessed it, a member of…" The door unlocked and the back of a blonde head was revealed. Before Sam and Dean could introduce themselves she had strolled back into the apartment without so much as a how-do-you-do? Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

Dean accepted the wordless invitation and pushed open the door. His brother was right behind him as they took in the rather plain kitchen. An owl sat on the back of the blonde's chair. He stared at the men with suspicious yellow eyes.

"If you're not going to warp in, Batman, you at least have to stop losing your key." The girl, presumably Misty, muttered. "Now come over here, I want you to see this. You would never guess what the Mayor and the Dean have been up too…."

The owl pecked her hair and the girl cursed, shooing the offending creature away. She blinked as Sam cleared his throat, announcing their presence. Sam picked up a book lying on the table and read the title out loud. "_Basic Hexes for the Busy and the Vexed. _Get this in the college bookstore?" He asked sarcastically.

Misty folded her hands over her chest and stood up. "I won't bother calling myself an idiot for letting you two in. What do you want?"

"This is Special Agent…" Dean trailed off when Misty raised an eyebrow.

"Really, you are going to pretend you're the FBI? If you want to go Federal…wear a nicer suit and try not to look so pretty. If it weren't for the guns in your belt I would have sworn you're here to give me a show." She winked.

Sam huffed, and they stowed away their false badges. It wouldn't help to push the matter. "So you know your roommate is a witch." Sam said.

Misty shrugged. "The warts and the green skin kind of gave it away. The real question is what are you doing here? Don't make me say it again."

_Demanding little girl. _Dean's eyes swept over her equipment, the computer screens, and keyboards. One was feeding security images from an empty office. _Alright, a smart AND demanding little girl. _So Rose's roommate was a computer junky. A witch with a techno friend…that would make their lives a bit difficult. Thinking what Ash could dig up made him uneasy, and Ash was their friend. Having someone like him on their ass wasn't a pleasant thought. '_Was' being the key word. Why do our friends keeping going up in smoke? _"In a few short words sweetheart, we to give your roommate a one way ticket to the hell."

Misty rolled her eyes. "As if your guns could put a dent in Rose. She's frickin' Batman guys…you're the Hardy Boys. How did you know Rose is a witch?"

"Black magic is kind of easy to trace." Sam said, setting down the book. Dean looked over the cover again and shook his head. Who the hell printed stuff like that?

Sam had Misty strapped to her chair with little fight. Despite her boastful words, the geeky girl wasn't much of a challenge. Dean gestured for his brother to watch the hostage as he wandered through the rooms, giving a particularly hard look at the owl, who snapped its beak in the hunter's direction.

The room of the witch was pretty easy to distinguish, considering someone had tapped a paper with the bolded words 'Beware of Witch' on the door. What was this, a game to them? Magic not something to be played with.

The bedroom beyond the door was something Sam would have nerdgasmed over. Every wall was covered in bookshelves, with titles that were just as weird as the ones from the table. Dean chose one at random. "_Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs _by Dylan Marwood. Holy hell." Who was this girl? Where the hell had she gotten all these godforsaken books?

The windows had been blocked by posters. Posters that moved. A wolf turned its head up and howled at the moon. Another was a picture of a group of centaurs standing next to a woman with bushy hair who somewhat resembled Rose herself. She was grinning and shaking the hand of a tall centaur with a flaxen body. He flipped the photo over.

"_Expansion of Centaur reservation…Hermione Granger Weasley and Firenze. Forbidden Forest 2002." _He stuck it to the window before his brain began to hurt.

On top of the bedside table stood a framed picture of Rose at the age of eleven and her family. Dean recognized the bushy-haired woman, a bit older, yet no less radiant. There was a red-headed man with a growing paunch, a black haired boy Rose's age, and his father, who had the same hair and eyes. Her hair was wilder and her teeth too long for her mouth, but she was still cute. Everyone in the scene was waving and wearing robes like something out of the _Sword and the Stone._

_She's a witch. _Dean realized. _They are all witches…her mother, her father…. _He dropped the photo on the floor and the frame cracked. The waving people inside looked a bit disgruntled, but their repetitive movements seemed locked in place.

Dean tried to ignore the broomstick in the corner that was very obviously not for sweeping and exited the room. Sam gave him an odd look, but Dean pointedly ignored him and he went over to Rose's desk. The area was littered with scraps of thick paper and quills. There were articles about the boy's pinned to a cork bored hanging on the wall, and strange symbols. The most damning aspect was the pile of little bones and the blonde lock of hair lying on a scrap of leather. _Hexbag. _

Dean swept the object aside and stared at the drawing of a rune suck to the upper shelf of the desk. It felt odd…he had a feeling this witch was like nothing he or his father had ever encountered, but he knew for sure of her identity. There was no denying what she was. They needed to gank her and put an end to this business. Dean would have to call Bobby down to confiscate the books in the witch's miniature library. Who knew, they may actually be useful.

Dean went back to Misty, tied to the chair with Sam standing over her. "Who exactly is Rose?"

"She's a witch; I thought that was all that mattered. What are you guys anyway? Religious Zealots from Salem, Massachusetts? Here to burn her at the stake? Redeem her damned soul?" Misty spat on the ground and struggled against Sam's tie that fastened her hands firmly to the chair. Maybe they should have used it to gag her.

"What your friend is doing is wrong." Sam hissed.

Misty scowled. "I thought I left you guys behind when I quit Sunday school."

"Where is she, anyway?" Dean asked, facing the girl who looked defiantly up at him with eyes the color of an autumn sky. Her hair seemed to have a life of its own, bouncing and dancing with every shifting movement of her head. She bared her teeth and an amused glint entered those sapphire orbs.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

His gun was in his hand when Dean turned, pointing it at the figure in the doorway. The girl was looking at the brothers and their weapons in shock, her keys clutched in her hands. "Misty?" The redhead asked in that infuriatingly sexy British accent.

"Yes dear?" Misty called, straining to look around Dean yet remaining in the chair. "Don't you see that we have company? Aren't they so pretty?"

The witch didn't respond, walking cautiously through the kitchen. Dean tried to block out the sculpted cheeks, the dainty nose, the firm, yet supple form of her body. Her hair, however, demanded attention. Free from its previous bonds it was even more wild that Misty's, curly in a way that her mother's hadn't been. The eyes were the same, however, and Dean realized what he had thought to be a trench coat as a robe. The patches on the arms were almost military, he recognized the winged striped as the UK version for sergeant. The dancing silver unicorn was new.

"We know what you are." Sam said, looking down the barrel of his gun. His line of sight was steady, Dean's wasn't. He kept unwittingly flashing back to that photo by her bedside, of the smiling girl she was not long ago. The family she surely had back home…a family like he could never have. Perhaps she had been brainwashed to be a witch just has he had been trained a hunter. Perhaps she could be taught her way was wrong. _No. _He thought, gritting his teeth and stilling his grip on the gun. _She's a hunt. Bad news. A murderer. Once they get the taste for it, they will never stop, never revert back to a less damned fate. They sold their soul just as I sold mine. _"What you are doing…it has to stop."

"Can you put down the guns?" Rose responded. She sounded tired, resigned. There were bags under her eyes; Dean was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. "I'll do anything you ask, just put down the guns and let Misty go. Whatever you want…just let her go."

A witch with a heart. They wouldn't do it of course, for all Dean knew Misty was in on it. Perhaps not with the magic, but she had certainly known her roommate was a witch. He caught Sam's eye and the man nodded, letting his weapon drop to his side. Dean did the same, but he kept it in his hand.

The red head nodded toward the girl in the chair. "Please let her go."

"No." Dean said.

"Alright, just…don't hurt her. Misty, are you well?"

The blonde smiled. "Fine and dandy, why don't you pull up a chair Rose before these two thugs shoot each other in the foot."

Rose caught Dean's eye and held it as she turned around a kitchen chair and sat down. She put her hands up and let the older Winchester step forward. He slipped off his tie and holstered his gun as he knotted her hands together and searched her for weapons. He found a knife of terrible make on her hip and a thin, fancy stick up her wrist. She winced as he waved it in her face. "What's this?"

"My wand." She answered.

Dean grinned and tightened his hold on each end of the stick. It bent a little. He had never met a witch with a wand before, but it wasn't the strangest thing he had ever encountered. The look on her face as he man-handled the thing was pitiful. He wondered what would happen if he snapped it. Would she loose her powers? Probably not. Dean tucked it in his pant's pocket and decided to give it to Bobby later…he would love to get a look at the thing. His actions seemed to calm the witch.

Sam approached her with hard eyes. "We know you are a witch."

"I've noticed." Rose said sarcastically. She turned her eyes on Misty. They were sitting across from each other. "See what I said about Muggles? They just can't handle the truth."

_Muggles? _It was a dumb word. Dean also knew it was directed at him and Sammy. He wondered what it meant…if it was witch-lingo, or British. He wouldn't know either way. Dean looked toward his nerd brother; he didn't look confused at all. Dean mustered his confidence face. "We know you've killed those boys. And we know why."

_That _got her attention. Even Misty looked befuddled. "What do you mean?" Rose asked. "I haven't been killing anyone."  
Sam snorted. "Nice try. William Keiffer, Ralph Harris, Aaron Paredes. We saw you at the hospital. We saw you kill Banes."

* * *

Rose calmed the inner turmoil in her head by staring at the shorter man. The situation called on her Auror instincts to learn anything she could about the beast that held her wand and a gun to her face. The one that was accusing her of murder, along with his brother, who sent her hair up and her teeth on edge. If Rose wasn't sure they were muggles (judging by their 'you're a witch' comments, wizards didn't really do that) she would have sworn the giant boy was into Dark Magic. In a muggle, it could only be something worse.

The man she kept her eyes one was finely made, his hair was light brown and his eyes were deep green…not the hazel she had presumed before. His suit was ill-fitting, and when he had taken off his tie, a necklace had fallen from the confines of his shirt. _An object of considerable power. I hope he realizes what is tied around his neck. _

"I didn't kill Banes." Rose said decisively. She looked at Misty. "Spontaneous combustion. I should have recognized the signs…but I was too slow. You were right, though; the witch is defiantly targeting the children of influential men for a reason." She looked back at the brothers. "If you stop accusing me of murder, maybe you can open your ears and hear reason. I didn't kill those boys…but Misty and I are hunting the witch who did."

The older brother looked toward his taller sibling with furrowed eyebrows. They thought she was lying. "Check my robe pocket…I found a hexbag in Neil's lab coat."

The older brother volunteered, seeming much more willing to approach her than the other. Rose hoped it had nothing to do with the look that he had given her on the diner. Although, considering the controlled rage in his expression, she doubted it. His fingers fumbled in her jacket until he came out with the small leather pouch.

"How are we supposed to believe you didn't make this?" Sam asked as Dean tossed it to him.

"I can't make you to trust me," Rose began _they don't look the type. Especially the tall one. _"But I will ask. I didn't make it. You are right…I am a witch. Just not the kind we're hunting."

"Are you a good witch then? Glenda of the North?"

"I don't understand that reference." Rose said slowly.

"Wizard of Oz, Rose. It's a classic." Misty explained from her chair. She smiled at the tall man. "You would not believe the things this girl hasn't seen. _Lost,_ for one…_The Lord of the Rings…_Hell, she _pretends _to know who Batman is, but I know she's faking."

_Not really the time for jokes, Misty. _Rose grimaced as the brothers' clouded expressions. She wished she had her wand. She wished they didn't have guns. Merlin…while she was at it she wished they didn't exist. "You are hunting the witch that killed those boys, and I am assuming that you have hunted others…perhaps not witches, but other things, dark creatures."

"Yeah, we're hunters." The older brother waggled his gun in the direction of his brother. "We gank freaks like you who decided to take up murder as a hobby instead of crochet."

Freak. Rose hated that word. "I didn't murder those boys. I haven't murdered anyone. Ever." _Except for the werewolf. Merlin, why won't they listen?! _"I'm different kind of witch. I don't practice black magic. Meeting Neil Banes was an accident; I decided to use him to get easy access to the hospital so I could look for the reason someone is getting revenge on Zeta Gamma."

"And let me guess," the older brother said. "You found it."

"Yes, again, by accident. Me and Misty? We figured out that there was a reason the witch was going after boys with powerful fathers…we just didn't know what it was. In the coma room I saw a girl with red hair, Holly Arcos. Neil said she was in a car accident, but I know now he was lying. Holly's mother caught us by her bedside and Neil called her Professor Warren. She was very angry that we were there. While Neil tried to go passed her, she threatened him. I think she put that bag into his pocket."

"So you're saying this Professor is killing those boys."

"Of course," the tall one exclaimed. London fluttered his wings and let out a screeching hiss. "The mother is going after the sons whose father's covered up Holly's attack. She needs justice…but she doesn't know who actually committed the crime."

"An eye for an eye." The older brother nodded. "A grieving mother with her power wouldn't care who she hurt, and she had access to the campus weight room and that boy's car, if they kept it on campus."

"Professor Warren." The younger brother repeated. "I'll look her up when we get back to the motel."

Misty sighed loudly and played with the hem of her skirt. "Or I could just do it for you. I have a feeling that I would be much faster."

Rose looked back at the older brother. "You are not going to let me go, are you?"

"No."

"But you do know I didn't kill those boys."  
"Yes."  
"Good." Rose nodded, and resigned herself to her hostage state. "At least there will be justice."

"I could kill you." He raised his gun, aiming it at her head. Misty made a noise in protest.

Rose continued to look him in his stony eyes without blinking. She had faced far worse monsters than this man. He and his gun did not scare her. Death did not scare her. _If he kills me maybe I'll see my family again. _This world had its own protectors. Even if it was these self-righteous, sons of trolls. "You could." She admitted. The words, despite her reservations, were like hard rocks on her tongue.

"Dean." The younger one said. _Dean. _Rose thought. _A good name. _"You don't have to do this."

"She's a witch Sam, I don't care what she says, and she'll kill someday. It's in her nature."

"I mean." Sam stepped forward and raised his own gun. "I will do it."

Rose knew Sam's finger would not hesitate over the trigger. He had killed people like this before. Women, looking him in the eye with silent faces. Monsters perhaps, but it took something to kill a creature that had a familiar face. Something most good people didn't have.

Rose wondered if _she_ had that something.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry that took a bit longer...I'm going for once a week, by Sunday...so yell at me or something if I lag behind. Anyway, thank you for reading, as always. I love everyone's reviews, the short and the long. I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, I am probably going to request a beta reader so editing will be less of a chore. Leave a review for comments, questions, or critiques!


	9. Chapter 9

_"War hath determined us, and foiled with loss /_

_Irrepparable; terms of peace yet none /_

_Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be giv'n /_

_To us enslaved, but custody severe?"_

Book II: Lines 330-34. _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Nine

Sam's finger tightened on the trigger, his face contorting with determination. Rose kept his gaze, not willing to show any fear. "Do it." She hissed.

"Sam." Dean said, placing his hand on his brother's arm. "Don't. Please."

"What?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows and his stare shifted toward his brother. "She's a hunt Dean. We have to."

"We don't have to do anything." Dean pressed his brother's arm down until the barrel of the gun was pointed at the floor. Rose held out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. The tension slumped out of her shoulders and she leaned back in her seat.

There was a tiny noise in the back and suddenly Misty's chair went flying into the couch. Her friend was standing, holding Sam's tie in her left fist. "You should have gagged me." Dean went for his gun but Misty was quicker, checking him with her hip and snagging Rose's wand. She tossed it to the witch before placing herself firmly in front of her friend. Sam raised his gun, but it flew from his hands with a burst of red light.

Dean's gun was soon resting in Rose's possession. As he watched it turned into a soup ladle. She dropped it on the table with a clatter of metal on wood.

The wand was pointed between his eyes and they crossed. He head both of his hand's up. "Both of you." Rose growled. "Sit on the couch, now."

The brother's complied, and Dean was surprised of the softness of the sofa. The coffee table was littered with a combination of old-fashioned bound books and electronics magazines. Water rings dotted the surface. He didn't really know what to think. Being disarmed by a couple of girls was pretty humiliating, and Sammy was giving him darting glares that meant he blamed _him _for their current predicament. Which was ludicrous…they were obviously equally responsible.

Rose stood above the brothers with her arms crossed over her chest. The pouty-angry look went well with her face. Dean smothered a lecherous grin, secretly glad they hadn't ganked the bitch. Sammy didn't share his sentiments, but then again, Sammy didn't share much with him these days. He was…different, since he had come back from the dead. More driven, full of cold rage. Dean hoped to whatever god may be that Azazel was wrong. He hoped that Sam was whole, that he didn't sell his soul to bring back something broken. It had been partly why he had stayed his younger brother's hand. Dean didn't want to Sam to revert to that recent ruthlessness.

"So." The witch began. Somehow Misty had gotten her hands on Sam's gun. She expertly dislodged the clip and tossed it in the trash, jerking the slide to release the cartridge in the barrel. She handed the now-empty gun back to Sam.

"That wasn't very nice." The blond scolded. "If you _ever _threaten my friend again I'll shove that gun up your ass and it with _not _be empty."

Sam gulped.

"Misty," Rose laid a hand on her friend's shoulder and the blond ceased her quivering. "I need you to look up the address and office of Professor Warren. We need to stop her before she kills another."

Misty nodded and stuck her tongue out at Sam before returning to her computers. Rose kept her attention on the boys, even as London alighted on her shoulder and began preening her hair.

Dean smirked at her wand. "What exactly can you do with that little stick?"

"I could kill you." Rose said no amusement in her tone. Throwing his words back in his face did not give her any satisfaction. Even as she regained control, Rose felt shaken. _I don't want to die. _Not like that, helpless, trapped. Although she tried to put on a brave face, and fool herself, Rose knew that death scared her even more than never seeing her family again. _I want to live. _"But I won't. I don't know who you are, and I don't trust you, for obvious reasons. And you won't trust me. I will, however, force you to listen." She flicked her wand. "_Immobilus." _Blue light froze the brothers in their seat. Sweat began to form on Dean's brow as he struggled against the spell.

"It's useless." Rose said, clucking him on his chin. His green eyes burned holes in her forehead. "So pay attention. I am Auror Sergeant Rose Weasley. My former career was in Magical Law Enforcement. Yes, I am a witch, but I have devoted my life and education to keeping the laws and peace between Muggles and Magic. I don't mean anyone any harm; I am doing my job. I am going to lift the spell, and you are going to explain yourselves in a respectable manner. Do not think you can catch me off guard again." Rose flicked her wand and muttered the counter charm, freeing the men of their invisible chains.

Sam lifted his arm in wonderment and flexed his fingers. Dean looked like he regretted not snapping her wand. "Was that Latin_?_" Sam asked.

"Our spells were adapted from the language, yes. Thousands of years ago, when the Roman empire stilled held power over most of Europe, a council of wizards began to standardize spells based on the common tongue." A history lesson. _Why do I always slip into 'know-it-all' mode? _ Rose had always accepted her 'nerdiness' as James so lovingly called it, however she couldn't help an embarrassed blush spread from her neck to her cheeks as she glanced toward Dean. _Misty's right, they are pretty. _

Neil's kiss had screwed with her head and driven her mental. Rose hadn't been kissed like that since Hogwarts sixth year, when Scorpius Malfoy had caught her under the mistletoe. A swift stinging hex had put an end to _that, _and after graduation Rose had flung herself deep into her work. She unwittingly began to wonder how Dean's kiss would feel…he had seemed so willing before. _Yuck, Merlin Rose, pull yourself together. _

"Our spells?" Sam questioned, his tone suspicious.

"A long story of concern to the present." Rose dismissed. "What I want to know is who are you? Do not lie to me, I can tell."

"What, you have some magical polygraph?" Dean huffed and crossed his arms over his very firm chest. Rose swallowed and licked her lips. Damn if the man didn't look good in a suit.

"Call it intuition." Rose shot back.

"My name is Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam. We're hunters. We…"

"'Gank freaks like me' yeah. I got it." Rose's eyes flashed. "I don't care that you don't trust anything that's not muggle and boring. I am not a monster. I do not kill for fun, or the innocent. I bring bad things to justice under the law."

Sam smirked. "What law is that? Yours?"

"No. But I took an oath when I took my badge that I would protect and serve. This is my home now; I am only doing my job."

"So what are you, some sort of witch-cop? Do those even exist?" Dean chuckled. "So where are our Miranda rights, officer? Are we under arrest? Because you can put me in handcuffs any time you like."

"Dean." The younger Winchester scolded. "Can you lay off it for, like, a minute?"

"I try not to."

"Boys." Misty sighed from her place at the computer. The printer began to rumble to life and soon it was spitting out sheaves of information. She straightened the stack before handing it to Rose. Misty stood over the hunters as Rose looked over the documents with a critical eye. London attempted to eat one of the papers, so Rose sent him back to his perch with a firm gesture

"Where did you learn to take apart a gun?" Sam asked the computer geek. "You were pretty good." Apparently Misty was classified 'human' and thus fell deeper into the brothers' comfort level than Rose ever could. The witch wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"My mother was in the Marines." Misty answered. "My dad was in the army. I learned a few things growing up."

"Like how to hack into the security cameras of the mayor's office?" Sam asked, nodding toward the screen that still head the black-and-white footage into the rather bland office. A balding man was sitting on the desk, fidgeting with a pen while he contemplated over a manila folder.

"Oh no. _That _I learned from my first boyfriend. Clyde Hasen. He's in jail now…never really had my natural talent." She wiggled her fingers and winked at the tall hunter. "By the way Sam, you should _really _update your firewalls. Anyone with half a brain can look into your personal files. I have to say, I've _never _seen so much porn in some one's internet history before. Busty Asian Beauties? Classy stuff."

Dean let out a bark of a laugh and slapped Sam on the shoulder. His brother glared at him. "We all know it's yours Dean. I told you not to touch my computer!"

"Shove off, Sammy."

"Boys." Rose growled, silencing the hunters with a stare. Dean shut his mouth, snapping back to reality. He remembered he should be angry, threatening, ready to burst free of the situation at any moment. Not joking around with his brother and flirting with the sexy British ginger _witch _that held them under force. His eyes woefully searched out his gun and found it still a kitchen utensil. He wondered if it could be changed back, he was rather attached to it. "Misty, I need you to get into the security footage at Ervin Tech, to find out if Professor Warren's car is still in the parking lot. If not, pull up to the street view of her house. I need a visual to safely apparate."

"Got it Batman." The blonde rushed back to her computers and began to furiously type away.

Rose turned her full attention onto the brothers. "Listen. If you want to keep trying to kill me, can you at least wait until we finish with Professor Warren? Although, I really don't see what the motivation is. Are you particularly religious?" Rose knew the Christen bible had driven the early millennium witch hunts that forced her community into hiding. _There are plenty of muggle families that seem accepting of their child's abilities so it cannot still be a driving communal force. Perhaps these two are extremists.  
_"You sold your soul to a demon…how can we not go after you?" Sam growled. The owl screeched and Dean grimaced. What the hell was that thing? And why was he beginning to have that odd feeling about Rose again, like she was something completely different from what they were used to hunting?

Rose was puzzled. Demons? _There are low-level demons, nothing more than a classification for factions of malevolent creatures, such as grindylows. How in Merlin's name could I have sold my soul to a Grindylow? _"I can assure you that my magic is innate. I was born with it, like my mother, father…and his mother and father, and theirs. I'm a half-blood, you see. My father is a pureblood…he can trace his ancestry back hundreds of years. My mother was born from Muggles, magic-less folk. I don't know anything about demons."

"Like that…" Sam scoffed.

"No." Dean interrupted. His mind flashed back to that picture by her bed. "I believe her."

Sam looked between the witch and the hunter, holding his hand up in confusion. "Dean…what?"

"She's not lying, Sammy. Look, she isn't like any witch we've ever faced, right? She doesn't use rituals…there's no Demon-worship book. Just a wand. A freakin' _magic _wand." It was all ridiculous. The whole case was slowly becoming something out of a terrible television show. So what, they were supposed to team up and fight the forces of darkness together? Not likely.

"I went to school, if that helps." Rose shrugged her shoulders. "I have complete control of my abilities. Seven years at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, three years of the Auror Academy, I am highly skilled in potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Ancient Runes. I have specialized in the understanding, classification, and control of Dark Creatures."

The blank looks on their faces told Rose she might as well have spoken Gobbledegook. Perhaps that was for the better. The Statue of Secrecy might not exist, nevertheless Rose felt uneasy about Muggles poking around wizard business. Rose decided that the best way to break the tension and their constant glances at possible weapon-like objects was to keep talking as Misty worked. Then she would simply paralyze them, lock them in the bathroom, and give Misty a beater to fend off any attempts at escape.

_There is no way I am working with these mountain trolls. They have the brain capacity and maturity of a first year. _"And on the ritual aspect…we do on occasion revert to the ancient practices. Often they prove to be the most effective. I assure you as well that books are often useful tools in spell work and potion making. Muggle magic, for which I am unfamiliar, is called Black magic, very ritualized indeed and weakly effective.. Very interesting, if I do say so myself."

Misty stood up and Rose cast a swift _Petrificus Totalus _on the boys, freezing them into stiff boards of man-meat. "What have you got?" She asked.

"There's a camera inside the campus science buildings. Look." Professor Warren was wandering about a laboratory crushing leaves in a mortar. "She's been there for a couple of hours."

"Making hex bags, no doubt." Rose picked up a magazine and rolled it onto a cylinder. She bit her lip and pointed her wand. The magazine shuddered and began to harden. It obtained the rough form of a beaters bat, although the wood was marked with bolded words and stretched photos of computers. The weight and feel of the bat shot nostalgia through her and Rose gave a sad little smile, spinning the wood in her hands. She handed it to Misty and directed her to stand guard over the hunters. "I don't care who they are. I can't have them shooting me in the back while I am trying to do my job. I'll deal with them later."

"What is this for?" Misty asked, holding up the bat.

"If I am killed, the spell will end. I can't leave you defenseless."

"You couldn't make me a gun or something? What about a Taser?"

Rose grabbed her knife and bag and headed out the door. "I'll be back in three hours."

"Wait!" The door closed behind Rose and Misty sat down on the arm chair, giving the men a warning look. Apparently the spell froze everything but their eyes, which darted around in angry panic. "What are you going to do with the witch?" She asked into empty air.

* * *

Rose apparated as soon as she left the wards, placing herself just outside the science building. Looking up she noticed the dark windows reflecting the pale orange sky. Eleven o'clock and no one was wandering around, which suited her fine. It avoided awkward explanations and clumsy_ Confundus_ charms. She buttoned her robe across her chest and murmured a swift fire-proofing spell. She had no idea about the witch's powers beyond hex bags, and was nervous about going up an enemy without prior knowledge of its abilities.

_Demons. _The word whispered through her mind, sounding particularly like Dean Winchester. There was so much to this new world she didn't understand. Whatever demons were here, they had to be dangerous and intelligent. _I'll have to exploit the brothers for information after this is done and then I will drop them in a middle of a corn field and not look back. _Bastards deserved it.

_"Alohomora." _The doors opened with a click and swung inwards. Rose graced over the floor, thanking the silencing runes that kept her soles from squeaking. The lab was in room 306 on the third floor. She took the stairs, not trusting the elevator. The mechanism always made her uneasy.

She opened the door to the lab. The lights were half on, illuminating the small space in a warm yellow glow. Jars of dried herbs lined the wall, and live plants strained toward the window in memory of the day's bright light. Professor Warren looked up from her place at the middle table, and she set down her pestle. Her lips were thin and twisted. The bags under her eyes extenuated the deep wrinkles which lined her forehead and mouth. She looked ugly then, in both psyche and form.

"You." She hissed. "The liar from the hospital."

"Professor Warren." Rose nodded, keeping her wand grasped in both hands out in front of her. "I admire your work. You are the first black magic user I have ever encountered."

The woman straightened. "The skills have been in my family for centuries, passed on from mother to daughter. Remedies, mostly, but we were not limited to simple herbs."

"You must be very proud of Holly, following your roots to become a doctor." _'She's in pre-med with me.' _

"Holly had so much potential. Those boys took that away from her. My daughter needs justice."

"And they will find it, Professor, but not through your methods. Not through murder."

The woman opened her mouth and out of instinct Rose pointed her wand at her. "Don't. I have been trained in my art since my birth, Professor. I assure you my powers are greater than yours."

The woman nodded, solemn. "Then you would understand the pull, Lily. Power like this…it's not meant to be wasted." Flames appeared between them, licking the tables with orange light. Rose banished the illusion with a mere wave of her wand. _Glamor, she really thinks I can be intimidated by glamor? _

"Toward darkness?" Rose laughed. "You know nothing. I find just as much power in the light. I do not need to resort to murder to do my job, and right now that is taking you down."

"And what are you going to do with me?" Professor Warren stepped beyond the table and held up both of her hands. "Prison? I will break out. I will continue my work. These _men _are foul things; you think Holly was the first girl they hurt? No, and they won't stop. They will never stop. And their fathers will continue to cover for their crimes, leaving girls like my daughter to rot."

"I'm sorry." Rose said. "I am. Yet I can't let you continue. I can't let you keep killing. That is not justice, that is vengeance, and it is a terrible thing."

Professor Warren growled and grabbed her pestle, flinging it at Rose's head. She deflected it and shouted "_Stupefy!"_ The woman fell like a rock, her eyes wide in shock. Rose retrieved a crystal phial from her bag and knelt by Warren's head. "Remember the story of _Romeo and Juliet? _My mother made me read it. Juliet takes a draught that mimics death. A sleep that only has one antidote, and no one has it but me."

She let the clear liquid dribble between the Professor's lips. It steamed on contact with her skin and the woman went limp, her eyes rolling back into her head. "Sleep well."

* * *

Misty clutched Rose's shoulder as they stared down at the bed. The room was dark and quiet, the hum of machines filling the void left by its occupants. "It is done."

"Good." Rose nodded sharply, and placed the flowers in the empty vase beside the sleeping girl's bed. Yarrow blossoms, for good health. "I am glad." On the bed beyond Holly with her hands folded across her chest, lay her mother. It had taken some manipulation on Misty's part, and a few memory charms on Rose's, but the woman had been placed in Ervin General until her dying hour.

"Will she wake?"

"No." Rose said. "And she never should."

The witch and her friend left the coma room with heavy hearts. In an empty hallway, Rose grasped Misty's hand and apparated away. Her friend continued to walk as they hit the floor just outside their flat door, opening it to show a very miffed Dean and Sam still pinned to the seat of the sofa. Rose released the spell with a flick of her wand, and watched as the hunter's flexed and stretched their muscles. Under long periods of time, the spell could be painful, but Rose was sure the brothers would recover.

"We saw what you did." Sam said, nodding toward the computer screen where the lab's camera flickered. The pestle had been picked up by the janitor in the morning, and students filled the tables as a stand-in professor explained Professor Warren's absence. Misty clicked out of the video and leaned against the desk, watching the men warily.

"Do you approve?" Rose murmured, although she cared little for their opinion. _Either way I doubt they will approve of my existence, so what of my actions?_

"What was it?" Dean gestured to her bag. "The drink you gave her."

"A potion called Draught of Living Death. It puts someone in a state that mimics a deep coma."

"Poetic." Dean lifted and eyebrow and jerked his thumb back to the bathroom. "I've got to piss, try not to hex me."

Rose watched him leave and her attention snapped back to the younger brother. "I will return your weapons in your care, but I don't want to see your face around here again. I am not a hunt, Sam Winchester. I don't mean anyone any harm. I just want to do my job."

He chuckled. "I should be made at you. But what you did…It was a good thing. What are you going to do about the frat boys?"  
"Misty complied all of her evidence and sent it to the State Department. I am hoping that Zeta Gamma's influence has limits, if not-we will go to the FBI. The real FBI." She smiled. "I am sorry I had to hex you. I couldn't have you interfering."

"You dealt with it better than we would have." The younger Winchester admitted. Dean flushed the toilet and came out of the bathroom. He picked the soup ladle off the kitchen counter.

"Do you mind?" He asked, and Rose ended the incantation. The gun reverted back into its natural state and Dean holstered it with more relief than he would have confessed.

"Are you still going to kill me?" Rose asked, directing the question to Sam. He shook his head.

"No. You're right, there is no hunt here."

"Will you stop using magic?" Dean raised his eyebrow and wandered to his brother's side.

The witch shrugged and stroked the top of London's head. The owl pecked her hand affectionately. "It's a part of me. A part of my life. I can't, and I won't. I'm not like you, Dean. I might be human, but I am not muggle. _You _are the strange ones to me. The way you live, the way you act. I won't become one of you and give up everything that makes me more."

"How many more of your people are out there?"

Dean remembered her comment, the way she had introduced herself, almost as if she was part of some larger governmental organization. One that dealt with magic no less, something that seemed so wrong and so alien he didn't want to think deeper into it. Because it meant that he, Sam, their father, and Bobby had overlooked something so huge that it could possibly pose a massive threat not only to hunters everywhere, but the world.

"I'm the only one." Rose replied sadly, looking down at her boots.

"We think it has something to do with parallel realties and portals through space and time." Misty explained.

"Oh." Dean said, his eyes widening. _Don't know if I want to open that can of worms. _"I guess we will be leaving, then."

They walked toward the door with the women following close behind. Sam stopped and traced over the burned runes on the wooden frame. "An expert, you say?"

"Close to." Rose blushed and shook her head. "The only way you got by is Misty let you in." She shot a withering glance at her roommate, who matched the glare with raised eyebrows.

"What can I say? I thought you forgot your keys. Again."

Sam disappeared down the stairs as Dean and Rose faced each other. Misty delicately faded back into the loft, shutting the door until only a crack remained. The hunter cleared his throat. "Why don't I hate you? I hate witches."

"I'm not your usual witch." Rose answered, amused. Dean was several inches taller than her, looking bigger without his gigantesque brother.

"Maybe. Maybe not." His gaze shifted toward the stairwell, where Sam was no doubt waiting for him on the landing, laughing his ass off. He was glad his brother had let the subject of Rose's death drop. Sitting, not being able to move, made Dean realize the tremendous amount of power stored in this little woman before him. The power she could have used to kill them both, yet she had let them go without a fight. Had even done their job…without killing. Maybe he was fooling himself, but Dean didn't think Rose was a witch at all, at least not by his definition. She was something so much more, so much better, than the foul creature that forced a shudder down his spine.

Without thinking Rose snatched his hand. "I don't know you, Dean Winchester, but you could have killed me, or let your brother, but you didn't. That says something about you…something that makes me want to trust who you are in here." She touched his chest with her free hand. "Rather than here." Her fingers brushed his temple. _Coming on a bit strong, Rose. What happened to dumping them in a field?_

"I treated you badly at the diner." Dean blurted. "Like you were just…"

"A girl, it's alright, Dean, kind of flattering actually, in a disgusting, self-loathing sort of way." _Maybe the field is metaphorical. _

Dean knew it was an insult, but he couldn't quite figure how. _Later. _"You seem like you can hold your own. You would make a good hunter, God knows we need more of them. There is a war going on, Rose, perhaps you don't know about it, but if you are really determined to help people…you need to be informed. Here" He reached into his pocket and pressed a card into her hand. "Call us if you ever need any help…or," he handed her another card. "This is Bobby Singer, he's a good friend, and knows a hell of a lot about the things in this world. He won't trust you much because of what you are, but we are going to need everyone we can get."

"I will." Rose nodded, feeling relieved that the hunter had let her in. He was right, there was more about to this world than she could have ever dreamed, and she _needed _to know everything she could about it. Perhaps there were a few things she could bring to the table herself. "Same." She sighed and pressed a heavy gold coin into his hand. He turned it over, marveling at its weight. No doubt the metal was the real deal.

"I was going to give that to Misty, but you need it more. It's called a Galleon, and _don't _spend it. If you ever need me, just hold it tightly and think of your location. It will appear on mine" She held up a duplicate coin. "And I'll find you as quick as I can." Her mother had created the spell when she was only sixteen years old. Rose had obtained her notes and duplicated the idea to use them with Albus when they were in separate classrooms. James had been banned from their little circle, as he would ask them for test answers. She had kept only two as a reminder of childhood. Letting one of them go was like taking a little piece of her heart. The things that connected her to home were beginning to go away, one by one.

"Thank you." Dean slipped the coin into his pocket and knew that he would probably never use it. Calling a girl for help was just humiliating. "Will you stay here?" He asked, looking toward the loft.

Rose shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Your brother is waiting for you. Go, Dean."

"Alright." He pulled his hand from her grip and he felt colder. Perhaps it was the fire in her hair and eyes, but there was something about Rose he just damned liked, witch or not. He was done trying to deny it.

* * *

Sam had his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall of the lobby. Dean tried not to notice the subtle amusement lingering in around his brother's eyes. "What?" he hissed.

"You like her. A witch, and you _like _her."

"Shut up, bitch." The hunter growled, palming the keys to the Impala, the faster they were out of Ervin the better.

"Wait 'till Bobby here's about this…"

Sam huffed as Dean caught him by the neck and shoved him against the brick wall.. "You aren't going to say anything, you hear me? Keep your god damned lips shut!"

Sam, surprised by his brother's intensity, nodded. The tension broke and Dean let his brother go. Sam rubbed his neck and furrowed his eyebrows. "It was just a joke."

"I'll tell Bobby…I can't have her name be given to other hunters. They won't see sense…I can't have her hunted." Dean muttered almost to himself as he slid into the familiar passenger seat of the Impala. Drops hit the window and thunder rumbled in the distance. The roads were already beginning to darken the gray of the pavement. The new sun wouldn't show its face until after the storm passed.

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why do you care about her so much? Twenty-four hours ago you were begging for her blood."

"How many friends do we have, Sam? How many allies in this?"

"But a _witch _Dean…we don't even know what she is…all we've done is taken her word that she won't kill anyone."

"I have a feeling…"

"A feeling? Really, we are going on that now?"

Dean slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Yes, a feeling, Sam. I can have a god damned feeling. Just trust me on this, alright? Rose…she can help us. She can be there." _We need all the friends we can get. Even if some of those friends gave wands._

"All right. But if people start turning into toads I will personally put a bullet in her brain. I don't like her."

"Yeah, well, she's not too enthusiastic about you either."

Sam frowned, a little put off. "How do you know that?"

Dean chuckled. "Who likes the witch now? Or was it the little blonde thing that totally kicked your ass?"

"If I remember, it was your ass being kicked."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

* * *

"A _hunter." _Misty hissed, locking the door behind Rose. The red head was a bit dazed. After everything that had happened, all the build-up…the ending seemed a bit anti-climactic. She palmed the golden coin in her hand. _What prompted me to give it to Dean? _After Misty's comment over the telephone, Rose had remembered the presence of the coins…but to give it to _that _man was a bit of a waste.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Please tell me you haven't fallen madly in love with him." Misty groaned.

Rose rolled her eyes and set the kettle on for a pot of tea. It had been a very long night. "No…but I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again. I need to do this." She gestured to her Auror robes. "I have a duty to this world, and now that I know there are people on the front lines- I can't just sit on my arse."

"I'll help you." Misty said. "After watching you take down Professor Warren. It's important, you know."

"What about school?"

Misty snorted. "Like it can really teach me anything I don't already know."

"Your parents?"

"Aren't paying for squat, so what do they care?"

"Right." Rose nodded. "Do you want to stay in Ervin?" Outside thunder boomed and the heavens opened up. Rain pattered the windows like a steady beat of a drum.

"Always thought this city was dull." She glanced around the loft. "This place isn't much of a Bat Cave, anyway."

"Where then Alfred?"

A glint in her friend's eye pushed Rose to wonder if she'd made a mistake. "Oh," Misty bared her teeth. "I have an idea."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading. I know this plot line ended suddenly, but it will pick right back up again, I promise. No beta reader as of yet, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar errors. A huge hug to all those who review, it really motivates me to keep writing and updating quickly. Once again, if you do have any comments, thoughts, questions or critiques, leave a review!

p.s. Although this is early, I was wondering if anyone out there is going to LeakyCon in Portland? It would be cool to meet famialr fan-fiction writers/readers there.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Let us not then pursue /_

_By force impossible, by leave obtained /_

_Unacceptable, though in heaven, our state /_

_Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek /_

_Our own good from ourselves, and from our own /_

_Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, /_

_Free, and to none accountable, preferring /_

_Hard liberty before the easy yoke _

_Of servile pomp."_

Book II: Lines 249-5_6. __Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Ten

The bar's lights were dimmed to yellow as Kenny Rogers crooned in the background. The pool game had long been abandoned, leaving a few young men sore and older fellows much amused. The bar was nearly empty, the keep was slowly wiping the worn wood with a dirty rag, his eyes turned down. He hummed low to the song, although if someone had asked him to repeat the words, he wouldn't be able to comply.

An old man sat with a much younger girl on the corner stools, their backs to the door which had been propped open to let in the cool autumn breeze. He slowly turned his glass of scotch, enjoying the rich amber color while matching the knowing glances in the girl's eye. He was dressed for hard work, rough jeans and a flannel shirt. His face was weathered with too many glasses of drink, and his hair had turned to snow.

The girl was dressed in a tight pair of jeans that hugged all the right bits and a skimpy black top. Her apron had long been discarded, and she twirled her auburn hair as she watched the older man through her thick painted lashes. She hadn't been in town for long, and wasn't used to the smell of French-fries, grease, and cheap beer that permeated the air. It had been she who'd opened the door.

"Another, Jack?" The man asked, lifting up his glass and rattling the melting ice cubes.

"No problem." The bar tender took the drink off his hands and filled it was a generous amount of scotch. "More rocks?"

"Nah…the night is cold enough." He glanced sideways at the girl and she giggled. The bartender rolled his eyes.

"Anything for Khole?" Jack gestured with his rag toward the girl. She answered before the old man could.

"Just a coke, Jack, I've got to drive home."

The old man grinned. "There'd be no need for that."

Khole blushed despite herself.

Jack set down the soda and began to buff a pint glass. "How's business, Hadley?"

The old man shrugged and savored the flavor of his drink. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. The sound was new, much to Hadley's chagrin. "Could be better. Found another one torn to bits. I tried putting the pictures up to the State, but they are still denying my damn permit."

Jack nodded sympathetically. Over the last couple of months he had heard similar complaints from ranchers like Hadley.

"Those damn scientists keep saying it ain't no wolf…but I know a damn lobo kill when I see it." Hadley grumbled. He set down his glass with a resounding shudder.

The force disturbed the only other occupant. He was a tired looking young man whose dark clothes seemed to blend into the shadows. He lifted his head from his arms. His eyes were ringed red and his beard still held the remnants of his dinner. "They're right, those scientists. It ain't no damned wolf pack."

He stumbled out of his seat and Jack let out a suffering sigh. "I'm going to call your dad, Rafe. He'll come pick you up. Again."

The man held out an unsteady finger to the barkeep as he approached Hadley. His face was flushed with drink. "It ain't no wolf."

"Then what is it?" The rancher asked, skepticism deep in his voice. Khole wrinkled her nose and drew away from the stinking man. "A chupacabra?" The girl laughed.

"No." Rafe's definitive answer took Hadley by surprise. "It ain't no goat-sucker either. Its _big, _man…it's fucking big." They watched him wander out the door as Jack hung up the phone.

"His daddy's coming up. Thank lord that boy left his keys."  
"Isn't it cold out there?" Khole asked, concerned. The boy had abandoned his coat on the stool beside his seat.

Hadley shrugged. "He's got enough rum in his to keep his extremities toasty. He'll be fine."

Rafe stumbled across the driveway, each stone illuminated in stark contrast by the full moon. His eyes were fixed on the field just beyond the road, his feet beating an unsteady pattern against the ground. The grass was long and difficult to walk in, but he continued, bending at the waist to shove away the offending blades. The dry rustling of the breeze upon the plains went unnoticed by his ears.

To the east the fields faded into forest which warmed the great feet of the mountains. To the west was nothing but barbed wire and rolling hills. Everything was painted silver, from the very tops of the trees, dusted with early winter snow, to the droplets of sweat collecting like dew in his beard. The air grew colder, and his breath rose out of him in great plumes.

The light of the bar behind him became a faint dot of orange, nothing compared to the moon. Rafe stopped and looked up, shading out the light with his hand.

A dark shadow swept over the grass. His hand went down, and he twisted, squinting up at the night sky. The shadow passed behind him and he turned again but there was nothing but the ruffling of the grass.

He shook his head and continued to walk, all fear driven out by drunken tiredness.

Hadley looked up from his drink as a sharp scream pieced the air. It was too shrill to be human, but it did not stop Khole from grabbing her chest and glancing out the window. "What was that?" She asked.

Hadley shrugged and went back to his drink. He winked at Jack. City girls. "Sounded a might like an eagle, girly. Nothing to get too concerned about." Khole smiled uneasily and nodded, her lips trembling as she took a sip of her coke.

"A _big _eagle." She muttered.

* * *

Stones crackled beneath the tires of the jeep as it climbed up the steep drive. The forest rose around the mountain road, tall pines with heavy green limbs that reached out like giants yearning to be remembered. Rose nervously chewed her lip as she contrasted a worse death. _Is it being crushed by an avalanche from our right, or sliding off the cliff to our left? _At least the trees would stop any serious descent. _Which is not reassuring at all. _

Misty had been amused when Rose had admitted she had no idea how to drive. The jeep the blonde was steering with an expert hand was more of a car than the witch had ever seen. Their belongings, shrunken with magic, weighed down the back.

When Misty had talked about Colorado, Rose had her doubts. As much as Ervin was a little too bland for their type of work, they had settled roots there. The witch had her job at the diner, with her friends Jimmy and Lindsey, and Misty had school. However the computer geek had convinced her that Colorado was perfect if they wanted to be both centralized and isolated.

_I have missed my broom. _Rose thought, leaning her head against the window of the car and tried to calm her nerves. "How much further?" She asked.

"Just a couple of more minutes. Google maps was a little vague on that point."

Rose went back to pressing her forehead against the glass, trying to keep her eyes off the impenetrable wall of stone that stood just beyond the tree trunks. Once she was out of the car, a rolling death trap if she had ever seen one, she knew she would enjoy the view. The combination of mountain and forest sent a stab of homesickness right to her heart. Hogwarts had graced a valley of Northern Scotland in a similar manner, and she remembered the shimmer of the autumn sun against the Black Lake, the white blankets of snow upon the mountain, as clearly as she could see her own hand.

The car rumbled to a stop and Rose let out a long breath, climbing off the high seat with shaky legs. She looked up at their destination and couldn't help but feel impressed. Apparently Misty's grandfather had owned the place in the forties' and fifties', using it mainly as a hunting cabin to entertain his fellow Marine officers. The man had died of lung cancer several years before, leaving the property to languish in the care of Misty's mother's inheritance funds. Her parents had never bothered to sell what was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and neither had they ever graced the cabin with their physical presence.

Misty grinned and slapped Rose on the shoulder. "I told you I wouldn't disappoint, didn't I?"  
"Yes." Rose breathed. The exterior was made out of local pine and grey stone, and it rose two stories tall over the hill. Misty gestured to the thick metal lock on the door. "I didn't get the keys."  
Rose obliged with a wave of her wand and the lock fell with a thump against the porch floor.

The thick door creaked open with a little help from Misty's shoulder. The interior was bright and open, large windows letting in light and sending spirals of golden dust into the air. The main floor was comprised mostly of a living area, with musty couches and a huge cobbled fireplace. The kitchen's implements were out of date, but that suited Rose just fine, as she could never wrap her head around all the modern electronics.

Stairs directly across from the door lead to the master bedroom and two spares, all sharing a full bathroom. The décor was very much 'hunting.' Plaid blankets, nibbled by mice, and glassy eyes of stuffed animals looked down from the walls.

Misty stopped by a particularly large moose head mounted above the fireplace and sighed. Her locks had been tied back for the drive, but were already beginning to escape their restraints in spirals of pale yellow. "Yeah. No. These will be the first thing to go."

"I don't know." Rose smiled. "Kind of rounds out the theme, don't you think?" Misty gave her a look that informed the witch she was not amused.

"Well." Misty flicked on the light. It sputtered before illuminating the living room from a hanging chandelier made of antler bone. "Powers turned on but we've got a backup just in case. I had this wired up for internet before we got here and the water should be warmed. Pops used to pay a local guy to upkeep this place. Don't know what happened to him, but it seems like he's been doing his job."

Rose placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room. "I'll clean up if you get our things."  
"Fair enough."

It took them the better part of the day and night until the house could be considered suitable. Fresh blankets had been placed on the beds, the stove and counter-tops gleamed, even the cobwebs were gone. Rose was thankful the place had only supported the normal sort of vermin rather than the rather nasty and perseverant types commonly found in neglected wizard homes.

Misty handed her friend a steaming cup of tea before joining her on the couch. The fire crackled merrily as if it was greeting an old pal. The TV hung were the moose head had been which Rose had transfigured into a rather decorative bookshelf. Most of her volumes were kept in the master bedroom, where Misty had insisted Rose take up shop. "You have more shit than me anyway." Her friend had grumbled, converting one of the spares into her own electronics paradise.

London hooted from his perch by the window, looking very pleased at the new view. His feathers were already stained with the blood of Colorado hare. "To a new us." Misty announced, holding up her mug of hot coco. No matter how much Rose insisted she could not convert her friend to tea.

"And better days to come." Rose agreed. The porcelain clinked.

* * *

Rose pinned the poster to the soft wood and ran a hand down the parchment, smoothing any potential wrinkles. It was her favorite, detailing the physical aspects of the Hungarian Horntail as it roared and belched fire. As her hand touched his two-dimensional scales, he wiggled and attempted to nip her fingers.

The whole wall beneath the staircase had been turned into a jumble of supernatural occurrences in newspapers, magazines, and internet resources, tapped to the wall and connected with bright red yarn to a map of the United States. Rose plucked a string and grimaced. It was all so so…unorganized. For the first time she missed the bureaucracy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It provided a filtration and filing system that only a hundred employees and yards of red tape could offer.

_I am my own boss now. _Rose mused, stuffing a pang of loneliness down into her chest. She missed work, missed her family, and missed the world she had been exiled from. Rose was ashamed to think she would drop everything she had built in this new Earth if the chance came to go back. _Even if it meant not being an Auror anymore. A job is not equal to a family. _

"You alright?" Misty asked a stack of papers fresh from the printer under her arm. There was satisfaction in her face and a worry in her eyes. _No matter what lie I give her she won't believe me. _

Rose smiled and tapped the map. _There is no need for lies. Not anymore. _"I have a brother, back home. He's a bit younger than me, and a royal prick, but I miss him."

"What is his name?"

"Hugo. He was the first to get married, first to have a child. My grandmother was thrilled, but my mum thought he should have waited." Rose was an aunt. It was weird sometimes, but she had always so busy at work that she hadn't spent much time with the girl to get used to the idea. She regretted that now.

"I wonder how you do it sometimes. You left your entire family behind."

"I do what we British have done for centuries." Rose mused, quirking her lips and turning away from the map. "I carry on."

Misty handed her an internet news article and began taping the rest to their specially set aside 'current case' piece of the wall. "Well, on a different note, I picked something up from the local website. I thought it might be something to look into."

**Rancher Gone Missing**

By March Hess

Rafe Turner (25), son of Marvin H. Tuner, local sheep rancher, went missing late last Friday. Eyewitnesses state he wandered off inebriated from The Salon, a tavern owned and operated by Jack Harper. Tracks indicate he walked into a nearby field; however police have admitted a lack of evidence after that point. Turner's father is offering an award with any legitimate leads about his son's disappearance. If you have any information, contact the local police department or our office at RockyMountainTimes

Rose raised her eyebrows and gave the article back to Misty. "Not much of a case. People go missing all the time for perfectly normal reasons."

Misty smiled and tapped another headline.

**Scientists and Ranchers Knock Heads over Recent Cattle Killings. **

**"**Cattle deaths and missing persons sure seem suspicious to me."

_She's right. _Rose thought, narrowing her eyes as she examined the information Misty had collected. "The ranchers are saying the cattle were killed by wolves. The scientists…"

Misty nodded. "Specifically this man, Thomas Winters. He runs a small conservation division on the edge of the state park here." She brought pointed to a cropped version of a map taken from the computer. "He insists that the flesh damage is not consistent with that of _Canis Lupus. _He also points to the decrease in deer and coyote population…which he claims _is _the responsibility of the new pack."

"There is no reason wolves would go after the cattle if they have an abundant prey population. It's not that deep into winter, they are not that hungry." Cattle posed dangers that wolves would rather not take if they had other options. They were big, for one, especially the beef breed the farmers had introduced, and they were guarded by the things wolves hated, dogs and humans.

_That is just an assumption of course. My ability lies more with the divergent wolf species. _

"Can you get me in touch with this Winters man?" Rose asked Misty.

"Sure." The computer geek moved toward her desk. "What's your cover?"

"A curious graduate student, looking for primary sources to her research project." She did not have the expertise of a professional or the accent of a police officer. _And people are so willing to answer questions if they are 'purely academic,' no matter how strange or dubious they are. _

"What university?" Misty asked.

Rose grinned. "Why, Ervin College of Science and Technology, of course."

* * *

The building had seen better days. The faded white paint was chipping to reveal the rotted wood underneath. Parts of the roof had been covered by tarp to prevent leaks. The inside was no less shabby, with only a front desk and a table piled high with maps and brochures for hiking trails. The whole place smelled strongly of stale coffee and canine, which was explained by the first being that came to greet Rose.

Wizards didn't keep dogs as pets as a cultural rule. Most preferred kneazles, rats, toads, and owls, things bred for magical purposes. There were a few subspecies that occupied the exception; however dogs were incredibly resistant to magical evolution. Hence the few results people obtained for trying to make a dog into a magical creature were either ancient or drastic…like that one time her classmate Henrique Belvadir of Hufflepuff house taught a smuggled terrier pup to talk and it only barked in limericks.

Rose used these reasoning to cover her private embarrassment of pulling out her wand at the lunging dog. It placed both of its bear-like paws on her shoulder and began to lick her face with a slobbery pink tongue. She hurriedly tucked her wand back up the sleeve of her robe.

She was rescued by a strange hand grabbing the beast by the collar and yanking it off. Rose stood, damp and ruffled, completely put off her momentum. Her rescuer was a man not much taller than her five foot seven, dressed in jeans and flannel and sporting a thick scruff the same chocolate-brown as his hair and eyes. The witch had to admit she had expected someone older, but Thomas Winters couldn't have been more than thirty.

"Are you Rose? Sorry about that, Jorin can get a little enthusiastic." He blushed, scolding the dog with a raised finger. Rose couldn't pinpoint the breed beyond big, grey, and shaggy. "He likes you though, that's more than I can say for most people. Thomas Winters." He held out a hand.

"Rose Weasley, as you guessed. It's alright; I'm just not used to dogs. Grew up in the cat family."

"My brother owns a mountain lion." The man blurted, and the redness in his cheeks deepened. "Not that you're interested in that. Sorry, don't get much social interaction in this neck of the woods."

"You're fine." _Awkward is good, awkward is vulnerable. _

"I like the unicorn." He pointed to the sleeve of her robe. "You know, I get reports of people saying they've seen unicorns while hiking the range? Crazy I know…probably just mountain goats. People tell me they see big foot too, so I am inclined to disbelief."

_Or not. _Rose reflected back on her reading about North American unicorns. _Could they really exist here? _Excitement zinged through her veins and she swallowed her questions on the matter. _Another time, Rose, you have a job to do. _It was more difficult than she could imagine to switch gears, for if unicorns did live, that meant other things, like centaurs and dragons, might too. "I am here to inquire about the recent cattle deaths?"

He nodded and reached behind the desk to pull out a file filled with loose newspaper clippings, graphic and bloody colored photos, and scientific journals all relating to wolves and their connection to the dead livestock. He watched, wringing his hands as Rose looked over the data.

"They say it's the Clifford's pack, they are always quick to blame the wolves. But I know wolves; I've studied them for most of my life."

"So what do you think killed these cows?" Rose asked, trying to be nonchalant. She could feel the dog slobber drying on her face. It was not a pleasant sensation.

Thomas looked uncomfortable, His tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the ground. "I'm not a tourist." He said defensively. "I don't sprout lunacies like big foot and unicorns. I am a scientist. I have my doctorate, but there are always things out there…things that science haven't caught up to, right?"

_You have no idea. _"What do you mean?" Rose asked, tilting her head, the ever curious student. It was always amusing seeing muggles try to explain things they couldn't understand. She never got why they always insisted they weren't crazy, as if the misunderstood was automatically labeled under 'impossibly insane.' _Magic they deny, but they are sure willing to jump to aliens. _As if they two were unequally as unlikely.

"If it was a rabbit…or even a sheep..." Thomas muttered. "The wounds aren't consistent with the typical wolf kill. Heck…look at the pictures. There are no tracks, no residue hairs to even point to something that could have run the creature down. It's all cow hooves and clean snow."

"Are you saying it wasn't chased?"

"At least not by something with legs." He said, his hands digging deeper. "Like I said…if it was a rabbit, it would be easy to explain."

"Why's that?"

"Because if it was…I would say it was a raptor…an eagle to be precise. Something hit those cows hard, snapping the neck and spine instantly. Wolves' can't do that. They rely on exhaustion and blood loss to take care of their prey. Birds come from above, hard and fast. Do you know how much force a standard golden eagle can exert with its talons? 440 pounds per square inch. Fifteen times the more pressure than the human hand. But will anyone listen to me? No, because there aren't any eagles in recorded history that are big enough to do that to a cow."

A cold feeling grew in Rose's chest and she set down the file. _You are wrong, Thomas Winters. _Of course he would be wrong, muggles were always wrong, simply because the right answer was too 'crazy' to believe. _Like unicorns. _Rose mused. "Thank you for your help." She said, heading toward the door.

"That's it?" Thomas asked, surprised.

"I've got all that I needed." Rose replied, looking back at the man and his dog. Pity consumed her. The man was smart, smarter than most muggles, and everywhere he turned he was getting all the wrong questions. She wished she could reassure him that it was just the wolves…that he wasn't crazy, his analysis was just inaccurate. The man had sensed too much of reality to be duped.

"You aren't a grad student, are you?" Thomas asked, almost sadly. "You aren't interested in my data for a research project."

"No." Because sometimes the best way to lie was to tell the truth.

"Why? Why come here? Are you working for the ranchers? Are you going to tell the paper what I told you? Discredit my work? You're killing those wolves, if you do. All they are trying to do is reclaim what was theirs, they are innocent in this and these people are crying for blood. But even if the wolves die, the cattle won't stop doing the same."

"I know." Rose said. "Did you know about the local boy who went missing? Rafe Turner? Nothing chased him either, Mr. Winters, at least, not something with legs."

"What does that mean?"

"The police, apparently, can't find any evidence, just a pair of tracks leading out into the field. After that, they simply stopped. As if something just plucked him off the ground." She had her suspicions, but Thomas had only confirmed them. Rose had to admit, the muggles had their uses, occasionally. _If I had the Auror department I wouldn't have even gotten this case. I miss filtration. _

"You think…"

Rose smiled, and turned on her heel.

* * *

She landed with a pop outside the wards of the cabin. Rose wondered briefly what Thomas had thought. Maybe he would rationalize it…tell himself that she had simply walked out the door. Or maybe he was different, maybe there was a part of him, deep down, buried beneath that fear and social awkwardness, that knew the whispers were true, unicorns walked the earth and magic really did exist. Rose hoped for the latter. She had liked Thomas, and Merlin, the Statue of Secrecy didn't bind her any more.

_I need as many allies as I can get in this world. I hope they don't start picking up the pitch forks and torches. _

Dean and Sam were evidence that muggles could move beyond their innate rejection of strange and accept magic in all its forms. Rose needed a support network, whether it was in work or in life, and she was desperately afraid that if she was left alone, she would simply whither and fade. _I am not as brave as I want to be. I am not as strong as I need to be. _

Rose faced that reality more each day. It was the little things she missed, like sending letters to Albus or talking with her mother. She missed joking around with James in the Auror department and marveling over dress-robes with Lily. She missed her friends from Hogwarts, the libraries and the simple way her gran made biscuits. Hell, she even missed arguing with her uncle Harry.

_Whether I liked it or not, people were always there for me. Albus gave me my bag and my owl before I went to America, James stuck up for me in the office. _

Rose knew she had people in this world, but Misty, Lindsey, and Jimmy were not enough. They were friends, good, deep friends, but they weren't family. _That is something I took for granted. _Rose thought, opening the door to the cabin. Her friend was at the computer. Maybe someday the blonde would be included with that description, Merlin she was already one foot in, but it was hard to fill a crater with a pebble. Even if that pebble was Misty.

"Did you find what you needed?" She called as Rose went into the kitchen, stomping the snow from her boots.

Rose nodded as she put the kettle on the stove. Hard feelings needed a hot cup of tea. "And more. I need you to do something for me."

"Always, Batman."

_Batman. _A term of endearment. Rose smiled as she tapped the kettle with her wand to speed boiling. "Can you search for any references to Rocs on the internet?"

"Rocks?" Misty asked, puzzled.

"No…without the 'k'." Rose wandered into the living room. "Big eagles from the Middle East."

"Like the ones from Lord of the Rings?"

Over the last couple of weeks Rose had been reeducated in muggle culture through movies and books. Batman was still on the 'to-do' list, but Tolkien had been covered quite expansively. Rose had to admit that the series had been very interesting, and was secretly convinced that if the books existed in her world, Tolkien was a squib if not a wizard. _Knew a little too much about dragons and trolls for a muggle. _"Yes, these will be white." _For better concealment in the clouds and stark desert sky._

Misty shook her head as she scrolled through the links. "Not getting much here, just a couple of references to Marco Polo and the Sinbad. Jesus, these things are big, you think that's what's killing the cows?"

"Muggles have a tendency to overemphasis certain features. Rocs are not nearly as large as their mythologies suggest." Rose said, trying to act aloof.

Misty, like always, saw right through her. "Rose." Her tone was warning.

"I never said they were small!" Rose defended fiercely. "There just hasn't been one with a wing span longer than one hundred feet in a century. Magizoologists believe they are evolving to accommodate shrinking habitats." Rose had never laid eyes on a Roc herself. They were incredibly rare and closely guarded by the governments of the Middle East. To find one in North America was earth shattering to the implications of the species. It meant they were finding their own way to live in a changing world.

_This isn't your world. _A voice whispered inside her head. _There is no government to protect them, no reservations to keep them. They are not your responsibility. _

_ Says who? _She hissed back. Rocs and unicorns. Evidence that her home existed, even a little, in this strange place. _Isn't my responsibility to protect my home? Wasn't that the oath I swore to my government as well as myself?_

"If it is this…thing, and you do find it, what are you going to do? Kill it?" Misty asked dubiously. The idea revolted Rose. She would no more consider killing a Roc as she would a unicorn. It was against everything she stood for.

"No." The witch said with resolution. "There are ways." Containment spells, ward collars. Things that were beyond her capabilities as one witch. _That doesn't mean I won't try. _"Rocs are highly intelligent and nearly immortal. They live for hundreds of years. It would be murder." Murder. _Like the werewolf. _She knew it had been self-defense, but there was a person somewhere underneath that skin, and she had buried a knife in her.

Misty stared at her with clouded eyes. The woman doubted her, doubted her conviction. Suddenly Rose felt a burst of anger and she had to turn away. Muggles only saw monsters in things they didn't understand; it made her wonder how long she could walk so openly among them before they turned on her. _Misty wouldn't do that. You are being irrational. _The kettle was whistling and Rose heaved a breath before going to the kitchen. _Merlin I need a cup of tea. _

Her fear was growing. She felt so alone now that she was no longer pretending to be a muggle. It made her afraid, and she was scared of that fear, because she wasn't supposed to be frightened. She was a Gryffindor, the house of the brave. _There isn't a Gryffindor anymore. _

Her legs trembled and she drifted to the floor. Rose leaned against the cabinets and buried her head in her hands. She hadn't known she was crying until she felt the wet on her palms.

Misty was suddenly there, and Rose could smell her vanilla perfume. Her arms were warm and strong as they circled her, drawing her close. She stroked Rose's hair and murmured words of comfort.

"I don't know what I am doing anymore." Rose whispered through her sobs.

"You're being human." Misty replied. "You are carrying on." The kettle shrieked.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, and once again I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes. I try to edit thoroughly, but I always miss thing. Many of you have asked if this is truly a Rose/Castiel story, and I rest assure you that it is. However, like I admitted in the first chapter, I like to really build my plots and characters, and I didn't want to drop Rose in the middle of the War of Angels.

Leave a review for any questions, comments, or critiques. Happy reading!


	11. Chapter 11

"_Of good and evil much they argued then,/_

_Of happiness and final misery, /_

_Passion and apathy, and glory and shame, /_

_Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy…"_

Book II Lines: 562-65. _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Eleven

Fog swirled over the bare rock, muffling sound and limiting the world to only a few feet. Her breath spun out of her in great plumes, hesitating in ice-crystals before rejoining its cousin in the air. The metal jammed against her shoulder was cold, but it was in her right finger that felt the worst as it pressed lightly against the trigger.

She squinted through the scope and looked passed the crosshairs. Her heart was a steady drum in her chest, warming her ears as she sucked in breath after breath of chilly oxygen. Her legs had gone numb after several hours of lying in the same position, and every movement, no matter how miniscule, sent jolts of pain from her hamstring to her heel.

The fog split and suddenly, like a great ship parting the ocean waters with sails unfurled, the Roc descended. Its wings were white like fallen snow, its talons and beak bloody with the cow Rose had stolen from a nearby field. The bovine's lonely cries had echoed off the rocks for the better part of the day, haunting her every second until her teeth were sore from anxious grinding. She raised her sights, aligning the black cross with the great golden eye. The gaze was as ancient as the rocks around them and as lonesome as the wolf at midnight. How long since the Roc built its nest among the foggy crags? How long had it hunted alone, the cries of its fellows absent? Drive by the instinct to survive, yet with the intelligence to be aware of its solidarity, Rose could not conceive its despair.

She squeezed the trigger, and the gun jumped in her hands, loud and startling. A flash cut through the grey and red blood splattered. Thunder ricocheted off the mountain, from the gun and the weight of the Roc as it fell to the ground. The golden eye was gone, nothing more than a round hole where life had burned.

She sighed and slowly unclenched from her position, massaging the muscles of her legs until the cramping ceased. The gun was left propped on the rocks as she approached the fallen creature with a raised wand. It was as large as a dragon, but its age was impossible to tell. Physically she knew that the creature dwarfed her, however, Rose felt like a giant as death took what life had allowed.

Rose touched one out stretched wing, and came away with a feather the length of her arm. It was not the pure white she had assumed before, but flecked with black and brown. She tucked it into her belt as if it were a pirate rapier and pointed her wand at the corpse.

"_Incendio."_

For days public authorities could find no explanation for the complaints. There was logical answer for the consistent smell of burning feathers.

* * *

"Why?" It was the first of Misty's questions when Rose returned that evening, her robe damp with dew. She placed the gun beside the stairs. She had procured it that morning at a local Game Shop, where the salesman had boasted of its ability to take down a grizzly. He never stopped to wonder why a small British woman would need such a large rifle. That was in part due to the Confundus charm she had cast on him.

It was a difficult question to answer. For a week Rose had prepared herself to capture the Roc and relocate it to another park somewhere up north, far from human contact. However, she had awoke the night before and realized that her ambitions were simply beyond her.

Perhaps it had been the second human death that had promoted this sudden change of heart. A fourteen year old boy had disappeared from the family sheep farm during the night. Like the Turner case, the police did not uncover any evidence of foul play, just a pair of tracks that stopped. Maybe it had been the news article written by Thomas Winters, giving the citizens reputable evidence that the cattle killings were not the fault wolves. It could have been her failure to create sustainable containing wards, or her lack of ideas on how to move the Roc. There was no port-key that was powerful enough to transmit such mass, no broom that could hold such weight. Rose simply did not have the resources to save the creature, nor to protect it and humanity from it.

_Its existence was not sustainable on this earth. _And to put a bullet in its eye, because she could not summon the will for a killing curse, left a hollow in her chest that she was afraid would never be filled. Rose had tried to hold the standards of her society, but she had no society, nothing to support her goals and her ideas. She was living in a world that didn't exist.

She kicked the snow off of her boots and pulled the feather from her belt. It shimmered in the light, pure and beautiful, a reminder of something better than herself. Rose walked up the stairs, leaving the answer to Misty's question hanging in the air between them. Her friend didn't protest; she trusted Rose to explain when she was ready.

Rose placed the feather on the mantle of the window that overlooked the forest. A thin layer of snow glittered in the early morning light, diamonds reflecting back the thin light of orange and purple. She touched the stem, and her eyes felt as heavy as bricks. She was a murderer; she had become something that she had vowed to avoid. A killer. A butcher of things monstrous simply because humanity couldn't control or understand them. How could she carry the badge of an Auror if her vows to 'serve and protect' were thrown out the trash? _How will I ever look my mother in the eye? The woman I admired for fighting in what she believed in, for realizing humanity in creatures whose genes said otherwise? How could I speak to her and not hear the thunder of the gun and see the blood on the mountain? _

Where was the good in her actions? The honor? The bravery? She had not fought the Roc, had not faced it like a true Gryffindor. She had hidden in the fog like a coward, tricked it like a Slytherin, and shot it like a common thug. _I am pretending to be an Auror, but I acted like a hunter. _

Was that such a bad thing? If she had let the Roc live, more people would have died. She was protecting those who could not protect themselves, taking the consequence so others would not. _It is not heroism. _

She undressed slowly, conscious of the bruises the hard ground had marked her body with. Her bed was calling, the peace of sleep and escape from the guilt. She had shot the Roc. She had killed what she had vowed to save. _It is done. No use crying over spilled pumpkin juice. _

_ If I wallow in regret, I will never rest; I will never act. Death and blood, the hunter's life is not that of an Auror. There is no red tape, no high orders from above. My actions are my own and I have to stop living like the Ministry of Magic still exists. _

Yet Rose refused to forget who she was, what being an Auror meant to her identity, what it taught her not only in skill, but in morality. _I will save those who can be save, and respect the necessity that this world demands. _Rose pulled the covers of her bed to her chin and stared at the rifle leaning against the corner of the room. It was the last thing she saw before drifting to sleep.

* * *

The air tastes like rain. _Her back was pressed against the wooden boards at the bottom of her boat and the sky was dark with dreary clouds. There was a lamp at the brow, reminding her of the first journey to Hogwarts. _

_ It had rained then too. _

_ A ruffling of wings turned her attention from the heavens to the side of the boat. A raven looked down at her with shiny black eyes. He was as big as a cat and his every movement seemed to linger, leaving a wispy shadow of his form behind. _

"Hello." _Rose greeted, completely relaxed. There was no fear in this dull world. Just contentment. _

"Wake up." _The raven called. His voice was raspy, but she recognized the tone of her old Academy mentor. He had been a bear of a man, with a white beard and a scar across his cheek. A veteran of both Wizarding Wars with hard gaze and a sour turn of mouth._ "Wake up, fool."

"No." _She said, placing her hands behind her head_. "I don't have to listen to you anymore."

_The raven clacked its beak and hopped in an agitated way. _"Wake up…wake up…wake up."

"No_." She repeated, and it felt good. She could smell the lake, the whiff of fish and water, fresh mountain air with a touch of pine. It smelled like home._

"A dragon is rising in the west." _The raven croaked_. "It's time to wake up, Rose." _It spread its wings and took to the sky, circling the boat until it was merely a black speck against grey. _

"A dragon?!" _Rose cried to the bird that was no longer there. She sat up, and the boat began to rock violently._ "But I don't have a sword!"

* * *

The knife twisted in her chest and bloody dripped steadily down her side. She could feel it moving, a tiny slug that stuck to her clothes. There was a pain in her leg where her foot had caught a misplaced brick.

The night was orange, lit by dirty lampposts and lingering business lights. The stars were hidden behind clouds threatening snow.

She had run for ten minutes, ever since that alley beside the bar. Rose couldn't remember what went wrong, how she had tipped off her prey, but the beast had vanished.

Thinking the job a loss she had wandered to find a good place to apparate way, when she heard the faint growl in the shadows. Before they could move, before the figure could lunge, she had taken off.

_I can't apparate now. _To disappear was to abandon the case. That wasn't possible; too much work and time had gone into the job to just toss it in when she came to a spot of trouble. _Too many people need revenge. _

The vampire had killed three people, all young girls, all targeted at bars. He was quick, savage, and more intelligent then she could have imagined. How he had picked her out of the crowd of stumbling drunks…how he had sensed her intent…Rose had tried to be so careful, and it was the caution that had her in tight jeans and a tank top, not nearly enough for Colorado winter.

Rose ducked behind a building and tried to catch her breath. It was so cold, every lungful was like fire in her throat. He had caught her with one long claw, a stab wound underneath her breast bone, a slice in her hamstring. The cold took away some of the pain, but not enough.

She clutched her wand, ready to use her knife buckled on her belt. If she couldn't reach his neck with a curse, Rose would have to trust the magic in the runes to fulfill their purpose. _I can't risk getting that close. _She was not a superhero; the vampire was faster and stronger than her. It could hear the blood in her veins and smell every emotion. Evolution had created a perfect hunter of man, and she was just pretending.

_He's coming for me. _Rose could hear the steady rhythm of leather boots on the pavement. He had been handsome as a human, with high cheek bones and flowing black hair. Nonetheless, his trench-coat and gothic hued theme was a little too much melodrama for her taste. He rounded the corner and smirked, revealing a shark-mouth of jagged teeth. It was the first distinction Rose noted between the vampires of her world and this. There was no magical symmetry of the fanged-beasts in this reality, just blood, chaos and bad taste in clothes.

She made no move as he lifted his hand to touch her on the cheek. With a single motion he could snap her neck if he wished. Rose was counting on his taste for drama to buy her time to think.

"So…pretty." He purred, tugging on a curl. "I've never seen hair like yours, such fire and passion. Does it show in your blood? For a taste will I burn?"

_I hope so, freak. _She choked back the retort, pressing her lips together as she attempted her most docile stare.

He tutted, tapping her cheek with a clawed finger. "None of that, lamb. I can smell that you aren't afraid, not really. Panic has a particularly tang...like lemons. Sweet and sour at the same time. But you do smell….different. A hunter usually smells like gun power and steel. You are all…tingly."

The way he paused at every thought annoyed her. She flicked her wand and a bolt of energy hit him in the knee. The vampire howled and fell to the ground, clutching the injured joint with a look of shock. His teeth disappeared as his hair fell across his face. "Impossible!" He shouted as Rose stepped back, her wand raised. "You're a witch! We are on the same side!"

"No." Rose snapped. "Never. _Secarus!" _There was no color, just bent wind that shot towards his head. A moment later his body slumped onto the ground, thick blood creeping like molasses from the emptiness of his neck. _Go to hell you murdering son of a bitch. _

She turned on her heel before their scuffle could be identified by any witnesses. The body would just be another murder victim, muggles were always offing each other in strange ways.

With a loud pop her feet hit the wood of the cabin's porch. On the inside she was greeted with a crackling fire and the smell of pine. Misty had gotten frisky with the holiday decorating in the last couple of weeks. They had missed Thanksgiving while moving, and the blonde was determined to make it up with Christmas. A real evergreen stood before the window by the fireplace, decorated with multi-colored fairy lights and cut-out snowflakes. Red and green streamers hung from the antler chandelier. Every now and then a robotic fish with a Father Christmas cap would burst out in raucous song from its place on the mantle.

"How did it go?" Misty asked as Rose unpinned the research from the vampire case to a folder in the filing cabinet tucked underneath the stairs. She labeled the edge and placed it inside, next to the Roc.

"He caught me. I think he smelled that I wasn't drinking and got suspicious." Her side stung and she lifted her shirt to inspect the damage. The wound wasn't deep enough to require stitches, but it would make breathing difficult for a couple of weeks. The wound on the leg was deeper. "Can you sew?"

Misty paled as she watched the blood stain the paints of the red-headed witch. "No way...I'll pass out."

_Merlin. _Rose chuckled, hobbling over to the kitchen and retrieved her emergency potions kit tucked in with the Tupperware. A drop of Dittany took away the worst of the damage, but she couldn't afford to apply more until she identified another source of the herb. Stocking up on potions supplies, finding out what could be supplements for absent ingredients, was a thought that hung on the back of her mind every day. Rose preferred not to revert to muggle medical practices.

Walking was easier as she returned to the case map and plucked another news article from the edge of the map. "Fourth Camper to Disappear in National Park." She read out loud, taping it to the 'current case' section. "Any theories?"

"Aliens?" Misty suggested with a shrug. "I honestly don't know, but it seemed a bit suspicious for an area that hasn't seen anything larger than a raccoon in fifty years. Don't you want to take a break?"

Rose ignored her request. "No bears then. No full moon either if the calendar is right. We can eliminate werewolves. If they haven't found bodies yet, the thing must be hiding them…probably eating them too." Acromantulas exhibited that sort of behavior; however the habitat was too cold to justify a serious resident population. "Witness said it moved like 'lightening' and sounded like a lion."

"A bit unlikely."

"The police attribute the testimony to shock and are currently looking into possible sinkholes." Rose read. "Any past occurrences of this happening?"

"Nothing in the last ten years, but about a half century ago some loggers disappeared from the job. No one found them and a year later the operation was shut down by 'dangerous work environments."

"Any reason it would be happening again?" Rose asked, deep in thought.

"The forest was placed under the status of a National Park after the Vietnam War. A protected area, it was only recently opened to the public as a camp ground."

"So first it was the loggers, now it is the tourists." Rose murmured, tapped her chin and biting her lip. Exhaustion was creeping up on her, eating at her nerves. But her senses were so awake from the hunt; it was difficult to think of sleep. "Commotion…maybe something in the forest is angry, acting out."

"Or responding to the presence of people." Misty said pointedly. "Likes the taste, and we do make easy prey."  
"True, but then why would it stay? Why not go to a city or something where feasting is plenty? No…the forest is important to it…look up any local legends about guardian spirits or tree lords."

Misty couldn't help but grin. "You know, Batman, I never expected to hear that phrase. Did I ever thank you for making my life so interesting?"

"No." Rose smiled back, but it was tight. A deep pain radiated from the wound in her abdomen, and every time she shifted a foot sparks of fire burst from the barely healed injury and over her back, breasts, and upper arms. Rose hissed, and placed a protective arm over the wound. "Sorry…I have to go to bed."  
"Are you alright?" Misty asked, alarmed.

"Yeah," Rose replied, stumbling up the stairs. "I guess I do just need rest. I'll be down in the morning."

Misty uttered and oath and watched her friend climb the stairs. Once she disappeared around the corner the blonde quietly opened her desk draw and retrieved the small business card she had stolen from the pocket of the witch's favorite hunting robes. There had been too much blood, when Rose had apparated home. From everything that Misty had picked up from her friend, teleporting while distracted or injured was asking for disaster. There was no way she was going to let Rose go out alone again, not for a couple of weeks until she could move without a limp. Until then…the blonde couldn't just let the case squander. Someone else would have to take care of it, whatever it was.

She typed the number into her computer and waited for the call to go through. The line clicked, and she was greeted by an impatient, grumpy-sounding voice of an older gentleman.

"'Ello?"

"Is this Bobby Singer?"

"Who's asking?"

Misty smiled and leaned back in her chair. She let the programming run its course. The satellites pinpointed the location on the other side. _Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Singer's Junkyard. _"My name is Misty Walczak; I'm working with the hunter Rose Weasley. We were given this number by a man, Dean Winchester, who we encountered on a witch case in Ervin, California."

There was a pause on the other end. She zoomed in on his house, noting the rusted cars and the beat-up yard. "Never heard of you."

"We're new to the business, Mr. Singer. Anyway, the reason for my call, and I apologize for the late hour, Rose is too injured to continue the job at the moment, and I would like to pass on our current case. If you give me your email, I'll send you the information immediately, so you may locate the appropriate hunter." She didn't wait for the man to speak as she wrapped up the articles in an attachment and clicked 'send.' Misty was thankful that the old man even had a computer, although looking at his software, it was obviously past obsolete. _If I had my way every hunter would have a laptop with 3G. _

"You said Dean Winchester gave you this number? _Idjit." _He muttered the curse under his breath. Misty grinned; at least they were under the same opinion of the man who held a gun to her friend's head.

"Yes, sir. Now if we're alright I'll hang up and leave you to your beauty sleep." She ended the call before she hear his wasn't much about Bobby Singer on the internet; he had kept his nose pretty clean except for some 'drunk and disorderlies' in the local area. She checked his contacts and phone records, tracing most to disposable track phones she assumed belonged to hunters. Some of the numbers were still active, and she copied them into a document she was saving for future use, along with the aliases used to activate their accounts. With a couple of lines of code and a crack into the network, the GPS in each was activated, showing up as a tirade of little red dots on her customized map of the United States.

_Got you. _The closest hunter to their current case was in Utah. She cross-referenced his alias, traced back his path, and got what was probably his birth name: Terrell Drystan, a child of two Welsh immigrants. When he was nineteen years old his fiancé was murdered by a 'slasher' in Minnesota, who left mysterious marks on the neck and the victims drained of blood. He was thirty-three years old and lacked any immediate family. Fortunately, he kept a regular email address. She marked her letter from 'Singer' and sent him the same attachment she had Bobby. Perhaps the exchange wasn't subtle enough, and the old man would be a bit ruffled on how exactly she had done it, but Misty wasn't really concerned about an old man with a few to many guns.

She cracked her fingers, shut down her contacts, and stretched her arms. A good night sleep was calling, and Misty knew that a clear mind would be needed for the next day when Rose found out she had passed the case on. 'Head-strong' was too kind of a word for her friend.

* * *

The ringing phone woke Dean from a _very _pleasant dream. It involved pie and a picnic. The sun was shining and the light touched Lisa's hair in such a way that it made her literally glow. Sammy was playing with Ben on the swing, and Rose was there (Dean didn't question her presence.) She was sitting underneath a tree a hundred feet away, reading a book to a dark-haired boy who was too young to sit up straight without her support. A sword glittered beside her, yet he wasn't alarmed or even curious. The whole scene just screamed _family _in a way Dean couldn't have created himself.  
He opened his eyes, staring up at the mold-stained ceiling of the cheap hotel room. There was no urgency in his chest that made him reached for the cell phone beside his bed right away. Dean let his thoughts bask in that feeling still lingering from the dream even as the picture began to fade. His hand snagged the phone and he placed it against his ear. "What is it?"

"Do you know a Misty Walczak?" Bobby growled on the other end, sounding extremely annoyed. Dean glanced at glowing neon of the alarm clock on the stand beside the bed.

"Bobby, its five in the morning. Don't you need your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up, idjit, answer my damn question."

Dean sighed and sat up straight in his bed. Sam rolled over and rubbed his eyes. "Who is it?"

"Bobby." The older Winchester answered, kicking the sheets off his bare legs. There was something wrong with the heat in the room, leaving it a boiling eighty-six degrees. He would have opened the window if it wasn't below zero and winter in Michigan. It was either sleep in boxers or a pool of sweat. "Yes, I know Misty, why?"

"She called me last night and gave over a case in Colorado. Some missing campers, looks like Wendigo. I was going to give it to Drystan, he's in Utah…but she already emailed him the goddam article and he said it was from me? Who the hell is this girl, Dean?"

The hunter couldn't help but chuckle at Bobby's puzzled wrath. He peaked out the window, but the air was thick with grey storm clouds warning incoming snow and it was impossible to tell if the sun had risen or not. "Just a hacker, Bobby. She's pretty harmless."

"A hacker who's a hunter?" It _did_ seem like an alarming combination.

"Nah…she's just tech support." Her words, Dean remembered fondly. "She works with Rose Weasley." _Alfred to Batman. _

"Don't act so nonchalant about this; boy…it gives me the willies…" Bobby grumbled. "Where are you?"

"Michigan, Sam dug up something about kidnappings." The snow would delay them for a while, the Impala was his baby, but she wasn't a Subaru. "What's up?"

"When you're done get your asses down here."

"Why, you have something?"

"No, moron, its New Years, I'm not getting drunk alone like some old coot."

"Bobby, that's never stopped you before."

"Shut up, boy."

Dean lifted the phone away from his ear as the line went dead. Sam was dressed and was putting on his shoes. Dean felt his stomach gurgle and it let out a very unpleasant sound. Burger time. "Well, that was awesome." Dean mumbled sarcastically. He _hated _waking up early. "Let's go get pancakes."

* * *

**A/N: **A very long wait for a short chapter, I apologize. This is not due to laziness, however, I rewrote this about five times, and scrapped it just after I had finished editing. Too many plot bunnies kept appearing, and this one was as neutral as I can get it. So, this transition chapter behind, I am going to start digging my fingers into Supernatural canon.

Leave a review for questions, critiques and general comments!


	12. Chapter 12

"…for what place can be for us /

Within heaven's bound, unless heaven's lord supreme /

We overpower?"

Book II: Lines 235-38 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Twelve

_Dear father, _

_Remember that one Christmas we had long ago, were it snowed so heavily Uncle Ron had to set the ground on fire just to get out the door? It hasn't snowed much since that winter, apparently it has something to do with the muggles, but it is snowing here. Seeing this flakes fall past my window, in a house that has become more mine than it ever was Rose's, I find it hard not to keep going back to those days when we were still children. Now every time we get together for a holiday it is the kids that have split apart. Hugo has his own family, Molly is studying in France…Teddy and Victoire won't talk to each other. Even Lily...is she spending Christmas with you this year? Or is she going to Brazil with that boy she met…for the life of me I cannot remember his name. _

_Now I am afraid that Christmas will have to be, again, one short. I am staying in America to continue the case for I cannot justify leaving while Rose is still missing. We have always been close she and I. We had the same academic drive yet she was more Gryffindor then I ever was…perhaps the Hat was right; I would have been well suited for Ravenclaw. It was probably that arse-headedness that got her into this situation. The Americans are clearly hiding something. _

_They have kept me from the forest under the guise of 'international confidentiality,' which means that there is something in there that they don't want me to see. Perchance the Ministry should have looked harder into the opening you so brassily shoved Rose into. Three foreign nationals have perished in the position, and if all of our fears come true, Rose would be the fourth. Even to me, a mere research Auror, that seems blazingly suspicious. _

_I am beginning to think that they knew bad things were going to happen when Rose stepped into that forest. The dead agents were merely expendable props to disguise a very individual murder. Motive is still a question. Perhaps she wasn't supposed to come out alive and that is why she so mysteriously 'disappeared' after handing in her report. They still insist she fled from guilt. _

_Merry Christmas Father. Wish mother the best. _

_Your Son,_

_Albus Severus Potter_

* * *

"Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh god…." Misty muttered, pressing her hands tightly against the jacket. She felt the blood bubble against her fingers, hot and angry. The red was everywhere, mocking her, screaming that her friend was going to die, and all that knowledge stuffed in her head was worth nothing.

Her sobs racked her chest, clouded her mind. Her fingers trembled as they tightened against the soaked cloth pressed to the gaping hole in the witch's stomach. _I don't even know where we are. _

A forest…maybe a park. She couldn't remember if they were even in Colorado, it was just blood and the fading light in Rose's eyes. Her lips were open and turning blue, as if she was trying to say something, but hadn't the breath to give life to her words.

"Please. Oh god, someone, please." Misty felt the bulge of a cellphone in her pocket. She could call 911, call her mom, Jesus, anything would be better than the panic freezing her limbs and the tears running down her face. _This isn't my game…oh god, someone, please. _

A werewolf. That was what Rose had said as she had pointed toward the article. She had barely blinked when Misty had declared, proudly, that she had given her case to another. Rose had just moved on because she was Rose, she couldn't stop. Why did Misty think she would stop? The next full moon was on the 23rd, two days before Christmas. Rose was going to die two days before Christmas.

"Hey, lady, are you okay?" Misty looked up, unbelieving. It was a hallucination…there couldn't be a tall man with a pair of track pants and a head band before her. He couldn't be holding a cell phone to his ear as he chattered to the emergency number. He wasn't real.

Oh god, she hoped he was real.

"Help…" Her lips formed. He knelt and took off his jacket. It was some sort of plastic material that wouldn't absorb blood very well. When he put it on Misty's shoulders she understood and realized how cold she was without her jacket. His shirt was next, replacing the sodden coat on Rose's belly. He hissed at the sight of the slash marks, so deep that Misty could see the glossy organs underneath.

"Jesus Christ. They'll be here in two minutes." He explained. Misty wanted to hug him, kiss him, thank him, but her mouth wouldn't move. "What happened?"

She shook her head. How could she explain to a muggle? That Misty had insisted she come along out of concern for her friend. That she had sat on the park bench and waited with a cup of coffee as Rose risked her life trying to capture a werewolf? That the park was in its path of hunting, that Rose had stepped between it and she had taken the claws that were meant for her? The wolf was gone…if one could even call it that. It had been more human than they were prepared for.

Misty didn't really care about the wolf anymore or the people that it had killed. She just wanted the ambulance to come, she wanted Rose to stop bleeding, she wanted them to be warm and safe and opening presents under the tree.

Not this, oh god, not this.

"Don't leave me." Misty begged in Rose's ear as the sound of sirens echoed through the trees. Men in uniform jumped out of the ambulance and rushed to their side. They pulled Misty away, she was too weak to protest, and carefully placed Rose on a stretcher. She opened her mouth to ask if she could go with them, but before her brain could process the thought they were gone and Misty was alone in the blood soaked snow with the track-pants man and the cops. Misty could not remember when they had arrived.

They said some words but she was not listening, so bright was the red against the white. She could not take her eyes off of it. "Ma'am?"

The voice was softer than the others, gentler. She looked up, meeting the gaze of another woman. She was short and bulky with brown hair pulled back in a bun. It made the lines around her eyes stand out. Laugh lines. They were all local, small-town cops, two men and her.

"Yes?" Misty choked.

"You've got to come with us."

"What about Rose?" _Oh god. _Her hands were sticky with blood. She imagined she could smell it, like pennies, isn't that what that vampire book had said? Blood smelled like shiny, new pennies.

"Jakes will take good care of her, I promise." Misty wanted to believe her. Perhaps it was that trust and desperate hope that she allowed them to place her in the back of her car and take her to the station just a couple of blocks down the road.

* * *

She ended up in a chair in a chilly room examining her hands and the cracks the drying blood created. She seemed to sit there for hours until a guy in a poorly fitting suit banged open the door. He had messy hair and smelled like cheap motel shampoo. Misty's nose twitched as she recognized the combination and her eyes narrowed when he showed her his badge.

His face wasn't familiar yet she knew what he was. It made her angry, his presence was a betrayal of Rose and what she had worked for. "Special Agent Andrew Hudson, I'd like to question you about your friends tragic…accident."

"It was a wild dog." Misty replied. Her anger cooled her mind, made her remember that she wasn't the just a girl but partner to Auror Sergeant Rose Weasley. And they were on a case. "Why would the FBI be interested in a wild dog?"

"We like to cover all the bases." He was pretty unassuming with blonde hair and blue eyes. Handsome in the blandest way.

"Horseshit." Misty hissed, leaning across the table to look the man in the eye. He drew back and his hand twitched toward his gun. "You are a hunter." If she was wrong, and Misty was sure she was not, the Agent would simply be confused and deny the bizarre accusation.

'Agent Hudson' did not.

"Who are you?" He asked, muscles tensing.

"I work with a hunter who was on this case. She was the one who went to the hospital." Misty replied, leaning back in her chair and crossing her hands over her chest.

"Rose Weasley." The hunter said as if he had memorized the name. "She is a hunter?" He scoffed and Misty felt her hackles rise. "Some kind if she gets done in by a sixteen year-old girl."

"A girl with talons. And it wasn't her fault, it was mine. I got in the way." She should have listened to Rose and stayed home rather than insisting on sitting on the sidelines and getting her friend hurt.

"So you know that she's a werewolf."

"Obviously." Grace Jones was a resident of the local Chapin High School, vice president of the Chastity Club, and daughter of the Baptist pastor. She was goody-to-shoes all the way with primp blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and the kind of smile that sold lots of bake sale cookies. Her ex-boyfriend and the fellow leader of the youth group club had been the first victim three months ago, and since then she had slaughtered every boy her age within the parish.

Misty had found the information in an hour. She was good with the people, the kind that newspapers wrote articles about and school websites announced awards. Rose was good with the beast, the monster those seemingly ordinary people become. She could connect dots faster than Misty had ever seen and sometimes the computer geek wondered if Rose didn't step a little ahead of herself, coming to conclusions before evaluating all the possibilities. Bursting into a gun fight with a knife so to speak-and going through with it anyway.

At times Misty worried that the line between Bruce and Batman wasn't clear enough in her friend. That the hard choices her robed crusader ate into her psych until all she could feel after the hunt was guilt and regret…driving her harder into the next, more determined to do the 'right thing.' Misty liked to think she saw the reality that sometimes a bullet was the only option…humanity came first, monsters second. It was the way things were supposed to be. Misty couldn't see the humanity in monsters, even if they had a face like Grace Jones.

Then again, that was the difference between her and Rose. Rose was a good person. Misty was not. _Rose isn't here right now. Being a good person put her in the hospital leaving me, perhaps the most unqualified person in the universe to finish the job. But I made this bed. _"Will you kill her?"

"Yes." The hunter said without hesitation. "Were you?"

"Yes." Werewolves were resistant to stunning spells, but a blasting curse would take it off its feet enough for Rose to drive the knife home. She had said other things, about silver dust and a rune bag…yet Misty had stopped paying attention. Occasionally her friend forgot that the blonde did not have her PhD in witchcraft. "We had no other option." Wolfsbane potion was notoriously difficult to brew and beyond Rose's NEWT level skill. There was also the matter of ingredients. Misty had begun to formulate a database, using stolen glances at Rose's books and a little computer worm of her own making. It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise, but Santa was going to be delayed, apparently.

Her friend owned three hundred and twenty two books, One third of those involved magical creatures, a third witch Misty had been scanning in secret late at night into the computer turning the massive texts into PDF files. The worm gathered information from the web, collecting sites and sorting them into folders based on specific keywords. It was still in its scaffolding stages. There were many things that Misty didn't have access to, like a solid source of experience in the supernatural, but it was a promising start. She hoped to make it public to hunters on the web. Everything they would ever need to know would just be a click away. A collaboration of knowledge so massive it would cut the time plodding though libraries and vague archives…and then there was the other half.

Beyond a Wikipedia of the paranormal, the blonde hoped to develop something even broader. A self-sufficient a social network for hunters where a modified algorithm would gather points from newspapers, blog posts, and data archives over the country to develop solid cases. Misty wanted hunters to be able to log in, claim a case, make notes, and share their experiences with their peers. A completed hunt would be marked and stored, the submitted report placed into the database to be available for any needed future. _Think of how powerful that could be. _

The idea was too delicate to share, like a first trimester pregnancy. Misty stared at Ari and couldn't help but wonder what he would write in his report and what the others would think when they reviewed it. _And I would be at the center of it. America would become Gotham City and I Alfred to a thousand Batmans. We could save so many people. _

"Then do it." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And get me out of here. I need to see Rose." Misty had to know if her friend was okay, for no matter her high-tech fantasies she only had one true dark knight.

* * *

The sky was a sapphire gem, so blue it was hard to believe that it existed at all. The trees were lush and the grass was green, glowing in the afternoon light, each stalk illuminated with perfect clarity.

She sat in the grass with her face turned up to the sun. She had shrugged off her robed and turned it into a picnic blanket. First-years screamed and squealed as the giant squid splashed playfully in the Black Lake, and a pair of Ravenclaws were comparing books underneath a nearby tree.

A ruffling of wings awoke her senses. She turned her head to the right, and was vaguely startled to see the form of her Uncle George. Except this man was younger than his counterpart and was toting two ears instead of one.

"Fredrick?" Rose asked puzzled. "Aren't you dead?"

The ginger teen grinned and stretched out his arms, falling into the grass. "This is peaceful." He sighed, ignoring her question. "Even in your dreams your world fascinates me. There is such power running through the earth I'd name it divine."

"Who are you?" Rose was frowning now, and as if the reality could sense her emotions the shadows lengthened and dark clouds gathered in the distance.

He laughed. "Look at you! No, I am not your uncle…I thought this form would comfort you…alas you are not a fool in dreams." He shimmered and abruptly a centaur lay in her uncle's place. She did not recognize his bay coat and long auburn hair, braided with glass beads and his skin painted blue. "This one died in battle, you would not know him. Father had such an imagination when he drew up your universe. These are the creatures that act as oracles to your kind, yes?"

"They read the stars." Rose nodded, not as alarmed at the stranger's presence as she knew she should be. "Why are you here?"

"Questions…your species is always asking them. It is what got you in trouble in the first place, you know." The centaur laughed again, but it was deeper, and it shook the ground around them. "I am here because this is where you keep me. My brother would have a good chuckle over this you know. He always had the strangest sense of humor. 'Just desserts' he would say, because I was always the stiff older brother that never let them do anything, They always wanted to play with the humans, as if you lot were anything but boring back then. I've never been down to earth…never found my vessel line. I suppose that I wasn't looking in the right universe. Who would have thought when I found you, Rose that you would just swallow me up? Me in my weakened state and you with your spark of power…I gave you my own and you consumed it, digested it, and made it the very fabric of your being. Very rude, if I should say so."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

The centaur waved a dismissive hand. "Never-the-mind. Now is not the hour for a story." He held out a hand and day was suddenly night. The stars shone brightly, scattered across the heavens like crystals in ever twisting shape and pattern. "I sent you to a place I know well, and for that I am deeply sorry. It was a mistake, an unintended consequence in my attempt to close the door your people wrenched wide. I have been saying it for thousands of years…it will be curiosity that destroys your race. Too much free will…it is written into the very proteins that bind your substance. However, as I am you and you are still you and not me…There is no way for you to return through the same means, so you must face the responsibility of Earth, and what is to come."

In the dream world, her memory was perfect. "A dragon is rising in the west." She repeated.

The centaur looked at her gravely. "My duties are now your own. Stop him, before he does what our Father never truly willed."

"How, though? How will I slay a dragon?"

In his hand appeared a glittering sword. She took it, hefting its weight and admiring the blood-red rubies in the hilt. "This is the sword of Gryffindor." Rose recognized it from it place on the wall of Professor Longbottom's office. Her mother used to tell them his story before they went to bed. A brave knight that killed the serpent with a magic sword.

"Funny thing about magic." The centaur said, running his finger down the silver blade. "It always seems to act when you least expect it, in exactly the way you need. I would know…two of my brothers are quite the sorcerers. Do not despair, young Rose. The universe is bigger than you could comprehend and smaller than you would ever dream."

It was day again and the giant squid was still splashing in the water. The centaur was gone; she was alone once more on the grass in front of the castle. The sword of Gryffindor lay beside her, gleaming in the sun and looking like fire forged to steel. _I have a sword. _Rose thought, laying a hand on the hilt. _Now I may slay the dragon._

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _Rose's eyelids fluttered, the constant blip of the machine matching the slowed beating of her heart. She felt as if lead had been injected into her muscles. She turned her head with care and spotted the Misty's curly mop leaned against the wall. Her friend had fallen fast asleep in the visitor's chair, her tablet placed on her knees.

A man in a white lab coat spotted her awakened state and approached quietly. His lined face and gentle smile told her that he was kind, although the presumption seemed illogical. Rose felt odd.

"She has been like that ever since we brought you in. I'm Doctor Matthews, how are you feeling, Rose?"

She opened her lips, and the words seemed to stick on her tongue like warm caramel. "Goooooood." It was true, there was no pain. Which was strange…she was sure she had been attacked by a werewolf. That usually hurt.

He cracked a smile and adjusted a knob next to her bed. She followed his movement, and finally noticed the needle in her arm and the bag hanging on a pole by her head. Muggle medicine…that was not good.

"You're a bit of a light-weight, we had to cut the normal morphine dosage to nearly half." Dr. Matthews murmured. "However I noticed multiple scars on your body when you were in surgery. You must have received medical treatment prior to this encounter."

"Yes….." Just not the muggle method, which was brutal and archaic. She felt a pull on her stomach and winced at the thought of actual stitches in her skin, like she was a quilt to be repaired and thrown back on the bed.

"Do you remember what happened?" The doctor asked, clutching his clipboard to his chest.

"Wolf." Rose wondered lethargically what had happened to it. _Dead. _

He chuckled. "Well, not quite, a wild dog. They pop up near homes in the winter, desperate for food. You put up quite a fight judging by the defensive wounds on your arm. It was your abdomen that received the worst damage. If I wasn't a man of science I would say your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous."

"Hmmm."

"Unfortunately, this will put you out of most physical activity for a good month. You will be confined to a wheel chair for the duration of that period. The way we had to stitch you up…well, we can't risk tearing your stitches."

"That can't happen."

His gentle look hardened as he caught and held her gaze. "It is necessary for your health and safety. Tearing your stitches will open up your abdominal cavity, exposing your intestines to bacteria and infection. It will also cause immediate internal bleeding. You will die. Four weeks, you hear me?" He placed the clipboard back on the end of her bed and walked away. Rose glowered at him…it was one of the reasons why she hated hospitals. They always came with bad news.

"Rose?" Misty murmured from her place in the chair. "Are you awake?"

"More than you," the witch mused, relaxing into her pillows. The room was dim, so she assumed it was some point in the night. "I thought they had specific visiting hours."

"I said I was your sister." Misty replied. "And you'd panic if I wasn't there. And then I hacked into the database and brought up compromising websites visited by the director. Show them porn and they stop complaining." She grinned and reached out, squeezing Rose's limp hand. Small stitches wound their way around her fore-arm, curved cuts caused when she raised her arms against the attack. They would scar, as all werewolf wounds would. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged." Rose smiled. "Muggle medicine, really Misty?"

Tears welled in her friend's eyes and she blinked them away. "You were dead…Rose, I swore it. There was so much blood everywhere…why did you have to step in front of me?"

Why did Rose allow Misty to come? After everything, hadn't she learned? _I thought she would be safe…She wasn't in the wolf's hunting zone…not her typical target. I was wrong, I 'm always wrong. _"It's my job to be the hero, remember? I'm a Gryffindor."

"The lion lost against the wolf, unfortunately." Misty said, releasing her grip and leaning back in her chair. "Grace Jones is dead. While I was at the police station I met another hunter who was tracking the case. That was four days ago. He put a bullet in her heart last night, called me when it was done."

"We missed Christmas." Rose realized. "Sorry Misty."

The blonde waved a half-hearted hand. "It's a commercial holiday anyway. There is always New Year…I get to decorate your wheel chair."

The witch flinched. "You heard about that." There were no wheel-chairs in the wizarding world. _But you aren't in the wizarding world. _The reason Grace Jones got a bullet instead of a vial of Wolfsbane potion. Death instead of life. _I am so sorry. _

"No hunting for a month. It will be good for you, Rose. I think you jumped to fast into something you weren't quite ready for…and I don't mean physically."

The responsibility of each victim, whether it is the monster or the human, was laid on her shoulders. A government didn't exist that might diffuse the guilt on to the conscious of others. Misty might have been right, but Rose didn't like it. She hated being weak because it showed her uncle had been right all along. Rose wasn't built for the field; she was built for research, the desk, the chair, and the books. Rose hated the fact that Harry and Hermione might have never made a back-handed deal. His decision had been a judge of character she was too arrogant to believe. _No choice now. I made my bed, now I have to lie in it._

* * *

"This is that awkward moment," Misty sighed, leaning her weight on the handles of Rose's (stolen) hospital wheelchair, "when we realize we don't have a car."

The weather was miserably cold, the snow had melted into puddles of slush and the air was filled with driving mist. The metamorphosis reflected Rose's depression as they huddled in the alcove of the front door.

"Next time, we drive." Rose agreed. She wasn't able to apparate them in her injured state, and Misty had left pretty much all of her belongings at the cabin. Their only supplies were nestled in the dark confines of the grey bag Rose had slung over the back of the chair. "Can we call a rental company?"

"I tried; they were backed up until next week. No way are we waiting that long." Misty groaned, grinding the ball of her foot against the ground. "We can call someone, I guess."

"Who do we know near Spencer, Iowa?" Rose asked, tucking the blanket closer to her neck. "It's in the middle of nowhere."

"But two hours away from Sioux Falls. That's where Bobby Singer lives."

_Great._ "If you would like to call him that is fine." There was a slim chance the hunter would help them anyway. Judging by Misty's small encounter with Mr. Singer he was a grumpy old man who asked too many questions. Rose wondered if paranoia was a product of old age, or if paranoid people _lived _to old age. _Conundrums under the influence of muggle pain killers. Note to self…irritation is a side effect of chemical bliss. _"I'm sorry. I just feel weird."

"I had wild mood swings when I got my wisdom teeth out." Misty commented. "If you don't want to call him that's…."

"Call him." Rose said sharply. "I would like to meet the man, if he is so willing." To drive them all the way to Colorado, he was more apt to tell them to shove their request where the sun-don't-shine. _Nothing a Confundus charm wouldn't fix, or better yet, the Imperius. Which I shouldn't have even considered…damn this world and my slipping morals. _Every movement brought fire in her gut, a burning that sent her teeth on edge and her eyes watering with pain. _The doctor had been right…walking is out of the question. _She hated doctors, as they were usually right with the worst news. '_Like grims in graveyards' Dad would say. _

'_Or in teacups,' Uncle Harry would interject. _They'd laugh and reminisce about their adventures in Hogwarts. Rose kept her school-day stories to herself around her parents. Spilled potions and broom accidents seemed rather dull in comparison to basilisks and secret societies. _Perhaps one day I will tell them this tale, less with the magic but more with the woe. _

_How very depressing I am. _

Misty snapped her phone shut with a sour look. "Well." She hissed. "How very unpleasant. You would think I was the very incarnation of Joseph Stalin by the way he was reacting."

"You did harass him with computer espionage." Rose pointed out. "What did he say?"

"Yes." Misty smiled smugly. "A tremendous waste of energy swearing at me, yet what man can resist rescuing two damsels in distress?"

"Yes, we are looking tremendously sexy." Rose grumbled eyeing Misty's rather limp mop of hair. "You with your hospital showers and me in my week old clothes." Her robes were crusted with dry blood, the leather slashed from the werewolf's assault. Apparently her runes protected against high-impact spells, but failed miserably when touch with a sharp edge. _Revision noted. _"Is there any way we can wait inside?"

"I suppose." Misty turned her chair and wheeled her through the automatic doors. The stitches on her arm would protest every time she attempted to turn the wheels. Clutching the blanket was about all that she was capable of.

* * *

Bobby stared at the bottle of scotch sitting nearly empty on his desk and swore. The world was a bit hazy and things seemed to stay in his line of vision even after he moved his head. Dean was sipping a beer on the couch. Sam was in the kitchen, determined to make a 'home-cooked' meal if it meant burning down the house. Bobby had threatened if he did he'd be building it again with his bare hands.

"Who was that?" Dean asked his eyes fixed on the TV. Some Asian fellows were kicking the crap out of each other with exaggerated noises.

"Misty Walczak….that damn girl."

Dean perked up immediately and turned off the television with the beat up remote. Sam paused his hurried actions in the kitchen, flour smudged on his nose. "Misty?" The tall brother queried, almost excitedly.

"What's wrong?" Dean rumbled, launching to his feet. "What happened?"

Bobby blinked. Dean's reaction was unexpected, to say the least. Bobby wondered just how close the boys got to the girls in California, and he didn't like it at all. Sam and Dean tended to drag people into things they had no business touching in the first place. People got hurt, got angry, and then went around and blamed the Winchesters for it. "That Rose got herself hurt…they're stranded in the hospital in Spencer, Iowa."

"How bad is it?" Sam put down his mixing bowl and untied the apron from around his neck. "Are they okay?"

"Well, she ain't dead if that's what you're saying. They don't have a car…how they got up there without some damn wheels is beyond me."

The brothers exchanged a look that Bobby didn't like at all. It meant that they were hiding something from him, something big…and secrets like that weren't ever good news. "What?"

"Um," Dean grabbed his jacket and avoided looking in the older hunter's eyes. "We'll tell you later. Come on Sam."

"Now wait a minute." Bobby growled, stopping them before they could reach the door. "Where the hell are you going?"

"To get them." Dean said, as if it was the obvious conclusion.

"They called me, remember?"

"Misty wouldn't see the bottle of scotch you've been sipping all day." Sam said, raising his eyebrows. "Dean and I will take care of it."

Bobby couldn't contradict him; he was a bit more than tipsy. It didn't prevent a sour feeling curling in his gut when he watched them drive away.

* * *

**A/N: **Promises, promises. I shouldn't make them. This is another filler chapter, but I am really excited to write it, so I guess that says something. I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes. If I have any canonical mistakes, be sure to correct me.

Thanks to all who reviewed, and all my readers...you guys really kick me in the butt. To all those who ask questions, they will be answered. I get this shot of glee every time I read one. Leave a review for questions, comments and critiques!


	13. Chapter 13

_"The other shape, /_

_If shape it might be call'd that shape had none /_

_Distinguishable in member, joynt, or limb, /_

_Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, /_

_For each seem'd either; black it stood as Night, /_

_Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, /_

_And shook a dreadful Dart; what seem'd his head /_

_The likeness of a Kingly Crown had on."_

Book II: Lines 666-73 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667_  
_

Chapter Thirteen

The clatter of metal and the stares of the nurses zeroed in on Rose's swiftly vanishing patience. She glared at Dean with gritted teeth, her hands clenched against the blanket. "No."

Dean raised his eyebrows and shook the handcuffs again. Misty crossed her arms over her chest and turned her nose at Sam. "Well, either you put them on or you stay here. Beds look comfortable." He started at Rose's responding snarl. "You didn't get bitten, did you?"

"No." The witch repeated. Her abdomen was on fire, the medication waning with her respect for the man before her. "What are those, silver?"

"Maybe." The hunter said, glancing at their audience of green-scrubbed women and white-coated doctors. "Why don't we take this somewhere else?"

"No."

"Stop being a child." Dean snapped and grabbed the handles of her chair. Rose growled under her breath as she was helplessly propelled into a private room. The door shut behind Misty and Sam.

"I thought we were supposed to be partners or something?" She retorted as Dean threw the cuffs into her lap, leaving the option up to her.

Dean tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Let's be honest Rose, I don't know you. You are a witch. Those two factors don't really make a sweet baby Jesus if you get my meaning."

"Fine." She muttered and held out her wrists. "If you would be so kind." Misty grumbled something but echoed her friend's motions. Rose kept her eyes on Dean even as the lock clicked home. "Are you going to feel safe in your beds now, boys?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. "Keep your hands underneath the blanket. Not a peep."

Rose complied with his command, ready to get out of the hospital. The mist had let up while they argued, leaving the world in shades of grey and brown. "Where are we going?" She asked, eyeing the lean black car. It didn't look as flashy as the others parked in the lot, so she assumed it was an older model.

Dean lifted her gently from her chair and placed her in the back seat. He folded her wheels with surprising precision and stored them in the trunk. Misty piled in next to her, wrinkling her nose. "Your car smells like man."

"Go figure." Sam mumbled, taking the passenger side as the engine rumbled to life. Rose liked the car; it seemed more solid than the smooth and quiet models she had experienced in previous months. "We're taking you to Bobby Singer's. He has some questions for you." The last part was directed at Rose. The witch flinched and licked her lips.

"Let me guess, this has something to do with being a witch?" Rose asked. Their silence was all she needed for an answer. "Merlin…you guys are like a bloody broken record."

"Misty also hacked into Bobby's computer." Sam reminded, turning his massive torso around so he could glare at them face to face instead of through the mirror. Rose resisted the urge to stick her tongue out as she squirmed in her seat. The bandages were beginning to itch.

The blonde chuckled. "And his phone records. And his credit card history. From that I took a real hard look at your FBI profiles. You boys _have _been busy. Grave desecration…murder. I hope it's all part of the business, otherwise my opinion of you fell about ten thousand feet. Puts you at the bottom of the Mariana trench, by the way."

"We are supposed to be dead to the FBI." Dean said.

"Don't be an asshole and I'll keep it that way," the blonde shot back. "What _is _with the grave desecration, though?"

"You have to burn the bones to get rid of a ghost," Sam explained, quelling his anger. "A lot of them reside in cemeteries."

"Why would you want to get rid of ghost?" Rose asked, leaning her head on the seat. Every tiny bump felt like someone was jabbing a hot poker up her spine. "The ones I've met are pretty nice."

"You are kidding, right?" Dean locked gazes with her through the rearview mirror. "She is kidding?"

Rose shrugged. _Ow._ "Hogwarts…the school I went to, was considered the most haunted place in Great Britain. My history teacher was a spirit who had passed a half a millennium before. Boring as a flobberworms race but he didn't deserve to have his bones burned."

"Things must be a little different." Sam said, trying to take in the fact that _different _was a gap between realities, rather than countries. "Here ghosts are usually angry spirits that have stayed behind to fulfill some sort of purpose. Once that is completed they're stuck and they can get malicious. Burning the bones puts them at rest."

His explanation reminded Rose that this somewhat forced trip to Bobby's was necessary. She was in a whole new world, where ghosts were bad and werewolves weren't, well, _wolves. _Mistakes could get other people hurt or killed."Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sam replied automatically, blinking in surprise. "So you said you went to school?"

Rose nodded, grateful that the wrath had leaked out of him. Academic conversations were so much more stimulating than yelling at each other. His curiosity was endearing. "From age eleven to seventeen. A boarding school for witches and wizards."

"What kind of classes?"

"Seriously?" Dean rolled his eyes as they passed an empty gas station. The impala was alone on route 71, without so much as a tractor trailer to keep her company. "Dweeb." His brother never really understood the term 'shut it' when it came to girls. Always more interested in what they had to say rather than what they had to offer. It was a big factor in Dean's theory of why Sam Winchester never got laid. Not that he wanted his brother to sleep with Rose. That was not acceptable.

Sam gave him his best 'I am not amused' face.' "We could learn something, Dean."

"Yeah," the older Winchester scoffed. "They day _I _learn something from a witch is the da…."

Misty screamed.

Rose jerked from her drug induced stupor as the world exploded around them. Glass shards rained from the broken windshields and metal screeched with an inhuman pitch. Rose found herself floating in midair as the Impala tumbled around her, skidding over the slick pavement and down a bank.

She felt the car strike something solid before the grey world faded into black.

* * *

Her eyes opened and she licked her lips. Her hands, cupped to her belly, were damp and red. She had propped herself in against a grey metal box, cold in the rain. _I can't feel my legs. _Rose realized groggily, forcing her eyes to remain open. Her stitches had ripped; their tight pull across her skin was gone.

_I am going to die. _

The impala was hugging a white and orange post not far away. Glass riddled the field, and the mist covered everything in a fine layer of dew.

_I am going to die. _"Merlin." Rose breathed and felt for her wand. It was still holstered to her wrist, unbroken. Her fingers would not comply when she commanded they flex and twist. The wand remained firmly in its place.

"Misty?" Rose whispered toward the broken car. _The cuffs…wear did the cuffs go? _They'd vanished. _Someone took them off…who? Me? _Accidental magic, perhaps, it was possible even at her advanced age. _This is not the appropriate response to this situation_. She called her friend's name again, blood in her throat.

Sam lay in her sight, flung from the passenger side door. He wasn't moving. The shadows around him morphed into the form of a woman, her light brown hair tied back in a bun. She was dressed in a pair of sensible heels and a beige suit skirt, comically out of place in the ruins.

Rose's mind attempted to come up with a logical reason to why a librarian might be walking around a car crash, but her instincts warned her that the presence was not natural.

A shard of metal was tucked in the stranger's hand, the edges digging into the skin. Rose's eyes narrowed. "HEY!" She yelled, all paralysis gone. The raised knife paused in the air above the prone hunter. The woman turned and Rose got a good look at her face.

"Merlin." Rose breathed, clawing up the box to stand on shaky legs. The woman had two faces. There was the finely wrinkled human and the other…hideous, pressed up against the exterior mask like a badly removed tattoo. _This is what the face of a Dementor looks like. _Rose thought, her wand in her hand. "Get away from him."

"Who are you?" The woman asked, tilting her head. "I do not recognize your form."

"Get away from Sam." Rose hissed, stepping out from the support of the box. She raised her wand, blood splashing to the ground. She was going to die, no doubt, but damn if she was going to let this freak kill Sam.

"Who are you?" The monster repeated. It took a step forward. Rose abandoned any further attempt to warn her.

_"Expelliarmus!" _Red light struck the woman in the hand and the make-shift knife flew into the woods. "_Stupefy!" _ The thing huffed as the bolt of white energy hit her in the chest, but did not go down.

The woman pointed to Sam. "He's mine. Our leader demands his death."

"I don't care. _Diffindo!" _The creature dodged her assault.

It danced toward her, and Rose stumbled in trying to keep her in her line of sight. "You are a witch."

"_Petrificus Totalus! Locomotor Mortis! Reducto!" _The blasting curse whizzed by the monster's ear and struck a sapling beyond. The wood burst into a thousand shards.

"You are very powerful."

_You have no idea, you ugly bitch. _"_Sectumsempra!" _ The monster, distracted by the rain of wooden shrapnel, was hit hard with the white curse. Wide cuts appeared over her body and she immediately began to bleed. The monster did not fall. _I cannot fire the killing curse. _Rose would not step over that line. Not even for Sam.

The monster laughed, staring down at the injuries with childish glee. "So…violent. You are not one of ours, are you?"

_Never. _Rose thought and holstered her wand. The woman raised a hand and Rose felt herself fly across the frozen earth, churned for spring planting. She struck a small stone and felt her momentum give out. Something slid out of place in her stomach. The woman went back to Sam, Rose was nothing more than an idle determent.

_The knife. _It had saved her life before. She felt for its weight at her hip, and was glad that Misty had remembered to bring it to the hospital. The hilt was in her hand and she rose unsteadily to her feet, dew mixing with her, that essential stuff leaking like water from a pipe. _Merlin give me strength._

The woman was playing with Sam's hair, her hand at his throat. She could see his eyes, wide, frightened. His shoulder didn't look right. _Dislocated. _There was a bruise under his left eye, a cut in his leg. She was not the only one to go unscathed.

Rose placed her boots carefully on the ground. If she fell again she would not get up. The silencing runes did their work.

The grey sky hid her shadow and the raised knife. She stabbed hard in the spot under the shoulder-blade, near the spine. Rose twisted up, and felt energy crackle along her hand. The woman slumped to the side and Rose cleaned the blood from the knife. The runes glowed white in the dusky metal.

_I cannot believe that worked. _She didn't stop to marvel. Her legs carried her to the Impala. On the other side Dean was lying on his stomach, breathing heavily. Misty was out cold. Sam stirred, shaking dirt from his hair. He squinted. "You're bleeding."

Rose felt her legs give out and her knife clatter to the ground. Her eyes closed. _It's done. Thank Merlin._

* * *

Rose sat with her hands tucked into her sleeves, inhaling the smell of rust and new fallen snow. She made each breath slow and deep, relaxing her muscles with every release of air, her eyes half closed against the yellow morning light.

"It's damn cold for you to be out here." The rough voice had become unerringly familiar in the last couple of weeks. She didn't turn or act surprised at his sudden appearance. Bobby Singer could walk quietly when he wanted to, and she had gotten used to his little habits.

"I like it." The bite of the morning reminded her that she was still alive, and how good that little fact felt when it rolled over in her mind. Bound as she was to the muggle contraption of steel and plastic, Rose imagined she could feel the steady contractions in her gut as cells began to pile up in her blood, patching the damage and becoming tougher than they were before. It seemed a better way to deal with the pain than complain about it, as Bobby was apt to complain about his age and the boys he had taken under his wing.

Dean and Sam had taken Misty back home some time ago. Rose knew that the blonde had been missing her computers and the solitude for a while, so it wasn't hard when Misty went with the hunter's willingly, in a beat-up orange contraption that only resembled a car because of its four wheels and front windshield. The Impala rested in the garage like an injured panther, patiently waiting for all her dents to be smoothed out and her master to return.

Rose had woken up on Bobby Singer's kitchen table, her wounds repaired with thick black string. She had been out for days; enough time for the boy's to explain her true nature to the sullen older hunter. He forgave her quicker than she could have predicted, possibly having to do with her heroic actions in saving Sam's live, her utter confusion toward the existence of demons, and her genuine admiration for his collection of books. It took a week for the boy's and Misty to get antsy, and in a week Rose was left in the care of the older hunter until her injures healed enough so that she could make the journey to Colorado.

Misty had sent London to her with a letter about some computer project she had started to work on. It was going well, and when Rose returned she planned on being utterly confused with the particulars. Rose ended up reading a lot while hanging around Bobby's house, and getting a little too fat on his cheap beer and Chinese takeout.

The witch learned mostly about hunting. Bobby, after a couple of sips of fermented barley, liked to tell tales of the glory days, speaking of Wendigos and werewolves, vampires and strange pagan gods. He let her help with his research when other hunters called in, and generally kept a close eye on her wheelchair stunted form. He flinched every time she raised her wand, so she kept her magic small and out of sight. Bobby was curious about her, Rose could tell, but was trying not to look too interested. She liked to show off when he wasn't looking, organizing his books in alphabetical order, or banishing the dust from the corners of the room.

"Breakfast?" Bobby asked, taking the handles of her chair and spinning her around. Rose tended to move her wheels with magic; her arms throbbed whenever she tried to grasp something wider than a book.

"Pancakes?" Rose asked hopefully. Her stomach gurgled in expectation. The wheels clattered over the rough ground. The drive had been covered in gravel at one point, but time had come and taken its due, pounding gray stones to dust. Walking was too painful even with a cane. Whatever the werewolf had done had been worse by the crash. The scars, pink and jagged, would always remain as a reminder of her mistakes. _Mistakes I need to learn from. _

"If yeh like." The man grumbled half-heartedly. Rose liked to think she had beaten him down to the domestic life. He didn't trust her enough to leave her alone while he went on hunts, so Bobby had been stuck in the house for the last few weeks, finally 'getting some reading done' as he liked to say. He lent her books with a cautious hand. Rose read without distraction, learning about demons, hell, and every strange monster that walked the earth. _Best vacation ever. _

Bobby kept his eye on the other room as he whisked the batter. The red-head had her back to the kitchen, her attention bent over a thick-leather bound tome written in ancient Norse. She turned page after page, and if he didn't know better it could have been Nancy Drew.

The hunter hated to admit his fascination with the tiny witch bound to a metal chair. When Dean had hulled her in, bleeding and as white as a sheet, Bobby did his job, stitching up those ghastly wounds, with a steady hand. The brothers didn't tell him until after, what had happened and what she was.

A witch. A witch who had met the Winchester brothers and lived. She had saved Sam's life from a demon and fought werewolves with nothing but an ugly knife and a little stick they called 'wand.' Had lost, too, apparently, but that had nothing to do with her and more her fair-haired friend, the woman that had a hand in computer hacking and antagonizing grown hunters. Another person Rose Weasley had saved.

He spooned batter into the cast-iron pan and watched the oil sizzle and pop. The witch could read that Bobby had found out. Giving her a book had seemed safer than letting her roll around and poking through his stuff with that wand of hers. She was probably half-way through his library, swallowing chunks of information in at least four different languages.

"After breakfast," He began, flipping the golden circle of deliciousness. "Why don't you show me this charmed knife of yours?" The librarian, stolen from Spencer, had been dead for hours. The demon, however, had failed to return, which meant it was either completely exorcised or dead. Bobby was hoping for the latter.

"It's not charmed." Rose replied without looking up from her book. "It was forged with runes."

"That doesn't mean much." Bobby said. The witch sighed, sensing the conversation would not drift away as she wished. She shut the book and set it down on the coffee table, spinning the chair (without hands, Bobby observed) and faced him with a troubled face.

"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand." Rose said, gliding smoothly forward. His wand was in her right hand. Her sleeves had been rolled up to reveal the smooth white scars, nearly healed.

She flicked her wand and dishes flew from his cabinet and landed on the table. Forks and knives danced from their place by the sink. Bobby watched with a tight mouth, keeping his face blank as he wondered at the fragrant display of power. _Like something out of a Disney movie. _

"I'm tired of pretending, Mr. Singer." Rose grumbled. "I'm a witch, and my stomach hurts, so deal with it."

"Okay." Magic made him uncomfortable, especially magic he didn't understand. However, he'd rather it done in front of his face than behind his back, as the hunter knew she'd been doing. "The knife?" He reminded, shoveling the completed flapjack on her plate and beginning another.

"I folded the metal over and over, twisting magic around it and sealing each layer with carefully structured runes. Some are for versatility, strength, sharpness…others give it a learning mechanism, so it may adapt to the defenses of any foe. When I saw it's face…I knew it was evil."

"You often stab thirty-year-old librarians?" Bobby mused, placing a small pitcher of syrup in front of her plate. Rose grabbed for it eagerly, giving him an odd look.

"Not that face…the other one. It was hideous to say the least, the way evil should look."

It was Bobby's turn to stare at her with disbelief. "You say it's true face…you didn't sell your soul ten years ago, right?"

Rose knew what he was talking about, after spending two weeks with her nose in a hunter's library. "No hellhounds after me, Mr. Singer. I don't know why I could see it…I'm glad I could though, otherwise I might have let her kill Sam…out of ignorance, not spite." She let the last part out hurriedly.

"Humph." Bobby grunted, sitting down to enjoy his own pancake. _Curiouser and curiouser _as Alice would say. "And this charmed…"

"Runed," she corrected.

"_Runed _knife?"

Rose licked her sticky lips and hummed in pleasure as her tongue caught the sweet taste of amber maple. She always had pancakes at Hogwarts, every day for seven years. The elves made them so perfectly with the freshest syrup it was hard to get sick of them. She reached for inner lining of her Auror robes she kept on after cleaning and repairing, and pulled the knife from shadowy depths. She sat it on the table, between the dried flowers and orange juice.

Bobby took it, hefting the weight and frowning at the balance. He picked up a paper napkin and watched as the tip slide through as if it was butter. "It's sharp I'll give you that. Ugly thing."

"I'm a witch, not a blacksmith." Rose said. "I didn't know what I was making…I just need a final project for the class and that's what I came up with."

"I don't see any runes." Bobby ran his fingers down the uneven blood grove, over the roughly shaped hilt and worm leather grip. It was double edged, more of a dagger than a knife.

"They don't show up unless their doing something important. Otherwise it could have been confiscated as a dark ritual knife." Blades that had been passed from generation to generation, still stained with the heart blood of human sacrifices.

"I want to test this."

"Find me a demon, Mr. Singer, and I'll show you anything you want." Her promise was almost too good to be true. _Never have I met a girl so bent on hunting for no reason. She ain't getting paid or nothing. _

'_It's my job.' _She had said when they had first formally met. Bobby had asked why a girl like her was running out to get near-killed by werewolves. '_And I am not a hunter, I'm an Auror…I'm not putting down my badge just because it doesn't have any meaning anymore.' _Bobby would like to know what the chances were that Dean and Sam stumbled across the only do-gooding British policewoman witch that existed in the universe. _Lucky _just didn't seem to cover it.

* * *

"We've got suspicious activity in the Northeast." Dean said over the phone, sounding like he was talking with the windows rolled down. "Want to come help out?"

Rose clutched the phone with both hands, glancing down at her stomach. She was out of the wheelchair at last, but her walk was more of a shuffle. Bobby joked that she looked like an old woman. She had turned his eyebrows blue in revenge. "I'm still a bit hobbled here, Dean, but thanks for offering."

"How's it going?" The man shouted. "With Bobby?"

"He hasn't thrown a pail of water at me, if that's what you mean." Rose said, proud of herself for the appropriate use of Muggle culture. "I've shown him a few things and he's trying to convert me to the rock-salt method that you thugs are so proud off. I'm a terrible shot without a scope, though, so I don't predict handguns are in my future." The guns always seemed to heavy and too loud to be practical. She liked slicing hexes, they were quiet and swift and just as deadly.

"I've heard that you've been killing demons." So Bobby had talked to the boys behind her back, it was only to be expected. Bobby had finally saw fit to leave alone in the house for a while to collect testing subjects. Evil little soldier demons with jet-black eyes and ugly sneers. Rose never got used to their faces. She tried drawing a picture for the older hunter to give him a reason behind her shuddering, but they never seemed to capture the right amount of horrible.

He would drag them from the car trunk, bound and gagged, to a Devil's trap drawn in the junkyard. There they would be unbound, growling insults, lies, and truths, until Rose had seen enough and cut their throats. Seeing the evil in their faces made it easy to ignore the humans they were.

"Yes." Rose replied finally, clutching the plastic a little tighter. _They never see it coming. _

"Awesome." Dean said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What do you think is stirring the Northeast?" Rose asked, filling the silence so she did not have to hang up. Hearing his voice stirred something deep inside her, even after the handcuffs.

"Well, this lady had her teeth fall out of her head, messy way to go."

Rose turned the facts over in her head. _Teeth falling out _sounded like a spell fourth years would use on each other as a mean joke. A trip to the infirmary, a firm scolding…Rose blinked away the nostalgia curling in her gut, right next to the butterflies metamorphosed from Dean's voice. "I'd say a witch."

"Would you?" The hunter laughed. "That was quick."

"Just sounds a bit familiar, is all." Bat-bogie hexes and tongue-locking curses…kids could be cruel but rarely fatal. "Don't take my word for it."

"Investigating will turn something up. If we find a hex bag I'll bring you some pie."

"Deal." Rose smiled into the receiver. "Be careful, Dean. I don't like the witches here…they're backhanded and nasty."

"Couldn't agree with you more. Say hi to Bobby for me."

"Same for Sam." She said, just as the other side ended with a dull tone. She set the phone back on its place on the wall. Bobby looked up from his desk as a cold rain pounded at the window. The devil's trap in the yard would have to be redrawn when the mud dried. It was an interesting arrangement of runes, held tightly by the double power of a circle and a pentagram. Albus always liked to explain runes in terms of Arithmancy and mathematics, but it never made him better at drawing them.

"How are the idjits?" Bobby asked.

"Hunting witches in the Northeast." Rose said, getting up from the chair and waddling to the couch, where a half-open book was waiting to be finished. She had begun translating old texts for Bobby with the use of a Self-Writing quill and a borrowed note-book. The quill had been sent down by Misty through London. _I miss her. _Bobby was good company when he wasn't brooding over the Winchesters, but nothing replaced the silly genius of her quick-witted Alfred.

The old hunter raised his eyebrows and turned the page of the paper he'd been thumbing through. Misty would have been horrified. "I'm getting stir-crazy in this house." He admitted. "I might have found a job in Pittsburgh if you'd like to come along."

Rose rubbed her stomach. "You know I can't."

"Can't, or won't? You've been walking for a week."

"You need to check a dictionary because what I've done is_ not_ walking." Rose said, feeling sour. She liked to think it didn't have anything to do with Dean. _Wrong. _"I'll hold down fort."

"Like hell." Bobby grumbled. "You haven't been anywhere but my yard and living room for a month. You've had time to heal…so you either help me or go home."

_Home. _Rose missed the cabin in Colorado, missed her roommate and the mountains, the sun rises and the smell of pine. _I don't want to face Misty like this, all crouched up and stiff. I don't want to see the guilt in her eyes and I don't want to vocalize that my condition is my own damn fault. I don't want to face that she'd been right, that I needed to slow down and start actually thinking rather than acting. I don't want to go back and start having those dreams again, about killing the Roc, about the way it looked just before I put a bullet in its head. _"Fine." Rose growled. The stitches had been taken out the day before. "I'll keep your old arse company."

Bobby hid the smile that flitted over his face. The girl wouldn't be doing much but sitting about in the hotel and resting, but it was good enough to get her out of the damn house. She was starting to look like some of the furniture. "Good…now here's what I got."

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. Please leave a review with any comments, critiques, or questions.


	14. Chapter 14

"_Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell…"_

Book III: Line 102. _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Fourteen

The billowing curtain tossed shadows over the carpeted floor, figures of creeping monsters and malicious men. Rose focused her eyes on the dark blue flame, ignoring the paranoia in her heart. Her face was warmed by the steam rising from the tiny, bubbling cauldron and she stirred the purple mixture gently with a glass rod.

_Double, double boil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. _Rose hummed the tune in her head to fill in the dark silence entrenching the room. The smoke rose from the iron pot and drifted out the window, curling and sparking in unnatural ways.

_I should be at the hospital. _Rose thought, sprinkling the poppy seeds into the mass. A blast of light filled every corner of the room and seared her irises. She blinked away the dancing dots, coughing. _The doctor called Dean and Sam; they will be here in the morrow. _With a wave of her wand the flame was extinguished and the potion stilled. Pouring the liquid into a crystal vial, she swirled the contents against the light on the outside of the motel. Violet that smelled of lavender and blown light bulbs.

_Didn't have any flobberworms mucus at the grocery store. _Rose mused. _Arrowroot for a thickening agent…poppy seeds and Valerian sprigs from the local plant shops. So very muggle. _Rose couldn't help but admire her adaptability. "Mum would be proud," She murmured, remembering the countless stories of surviving the woods while hunting horcruxes, eating mushrooms and skinny rabbits. Rose admitted her situation was not nearly as desperate, however sometimes she felt a little lost in the muggle world, in an American culture where a plastic card meant more than a gold coin.

Tucking a springy hair behind her ear she stored the corked flask in her grey bag and stood with shaking legs. Her steps were tight as she slung the strap over her shoulder and hobbled to the door, slipping the key into her Auror robe pocket.

_Twelve-hours to cool in a dark place. _She remembered from her text. _The recipient will fall into a restful state, a deep sleep without dreams. _

Dreams were a funny thing to fear.

* * *

Hospitals were always clean and white. The young doctor with the artfully messy blonde hair glanced at the red-head in the corner before turning back to the brothers. "Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it," he paused, licking his lips. "So we don't know how to treat it. He just…went to sleep, and didn't wake up."

Dean glanced at Sam, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. They waited for the doctor to leave the small, private room, muttering professional apologies in a tone that implied he had other things to do.

"How could you let this happen?" Dean growled as the door blocked the noise of the hospital. "You were with him."

Rose turned slowly from the window, moving with care as she pulled her eyes away from the gentle green of the outside. Winter was almost finished, spring was coming. "We got separate rooms. I didn't know until the paramedics came. After that…it was too late."

"But he shared his research with you," Sam said. "You must know what is going on."

Rose placed her grey bag on the bed by Bobby's feet. "Your…friend did the foot work. I collected and sorted information…it's in the wardrobe of his room if you'd like a look. He was investigating the death of a professor at the local university. A Dr. Walter Gregg. He went to sleep one day and didn't wake up." She glanced worriedly at Bobby. "The professor studied sleep disorders…dreams, working with _Silene capensis,_ African Dream root. I've used the plant before in potion making and sometimes seers mix it in tea to produce prophetic dreams. I have never heard of it having a fatal side effect."

Dean pursed his lips and ran his finger though his hair. Rose could read the tension in his shoulders and the hard lines between his eyes. The older brother felt helpless…trapped. She shifted uneasily. _I know the feeling. _

"And you think…what, that he took some of this African LSD crap?"

Rose shrugged. "It had been a long day…he just went to sleep right after dinner. Barely talked about the case at all."

"You said you use it in potions." Sam said. "Can you reverse the effects?"

Rose shook her head. "I've tried the basic methods…but this sleep isn't natural. Something is keeping him in his head…" She reached into her grey bag and pulled out the crystal flask. It glimmered in the florescent lights, the color seeming more intense in the day than the night. "I brewed a potion for dreamless sleep. It won't completely counteract the symptoms, but it may dull the intensity, perhaps give him a chance to wake up."

Sam took the offered flask and examined the contents. "What's in it?"

"Nothing you can't buy at a muggle shop." Except for the magic. Rose reassured. "I trust he doesn't have any allergies?" She placed a hand behind Bobby's head and parted his lips. Sam uncorked the bottle and, with a silent plea to Dean, tipped the contents between the older hunter's cracked lips.

Rose stroked Bobby's throat, skin brushing against unshaved stubble. "That should do it." Bobby's eyes fluttered behind their lids and the room caught its breath. The older hunter shifted and mumbled in his sleep, breaking the comatose spell, but remained in uneasy rest.

"Damn." Dean muttered, straightening his jacket. _Do they always wear the same kind of clothes? _Rose wondered, excusing her own style for sentimental and practical reasons. "It worked."

"I wouldn't say that." Rose said as she ran her fingers through Bobby's hair, untangling the greying locks. "I'm not a Healer."

"Do have any more information on the case?" Sam asked, his relief evident.

"Bobby was looking over Dr. Walter's research. It was a bit sly, understand; the university had little knowledge to what was going on. However one case showed prominent results in the earlier findings, a Jeremy…" Rose paused, biting her lip. "Merlin I cannot remember his surname. It's in the file in Bobby's room."

Dean pointed to the prone hunter on the hospital bed. "You will look after him while we're gone?"

Rose touched her stomach lightly and a regretful smile passed over her lips. "Not much else I can do. I have Bobby's cell phone, so if you find or need anything…"

"We'll call." Sam assured. Rose hoped he wasn't trying to appease her worried stare. The boys threw one last look around the room and left, leaving Rose alone to lean against the bed of an unconscious man. She waited until they were out of sight to flip open her phone and stab out Misty's number. _Just like Bobby told you…green is call, red is end call. _

It barely beeped before her friend's familiar voice rang from the other end. "Mr. Singer my man! What's up?"

"Misty, it's me, Rose."

"Oh…hello, so the cave man finally abandoned the smoke signals, huh? What do you need?"  
Rose glanced down at the face of her ward and tentative friend. She couldn't run and jump like the boys in army surplus, but lying down and closing her eyes didn't seem like such a strain. "I need you to find some African Dream root, promptly."

"Okay…" She heard the furious tapping of keys. "This about that new case of yours?"

"How did you know?" Bobby liked to avoid Misty. Something about the snarky blonde rubbed him the wrong way.

"I've been keeping track of you guys in my spare time. How's Pittsburgh, by the way? The weather looks nice over there."

"Creep." Rose muttered, rolling her eyes. "Dream root?"

"Yes, yes…let's see. The distributer that's been supply your dead doctor is still up and running. With a little cyber blackmail and rearrangement I can get you some of your drug tonight. Where do you want it delivered?"

"Send it to my motel." _Sam and Dean know Bobby better than I do. If we are going to stop this assault on his mind, maybe find some answers to what is going on…I am going to need to work with them. _

"Got it, Batman. I'll text you Dean's room number. Say hi to the boys for me."

"Thanks, Misty." Sometimes I swear she can read minds. Rose snapped the phone shut and tucked it into the front pocket of her robes. Her hand touched the galleon, and she felt the pull toward Dean's location. _If only I could apparate._ She reached up and plucked a grey hair from the man's head. "Stay put for me, alright? I'll see you soon enough."_ Sweet dreams, old man._

* * *

The night was clear and the air smelled like mud. _Rain. _Rose thought as her boots rang against the pavement. She clutched her broom in her left hand, her hair wind-swept and cheeks tingling with cold. It felt good to fly again, even if it was just the Cleansweep, built more for comfort than speed.

_'106' _she read, admiring the peeling paint and dirt flecked walls of the motel. _Even Bobby's taste is better than this. _Rose wondered if most hunters were men not because of the physical nature of the job, but rather the grungy living conditions.

She raised her hand and knocked her knuckles against the wood. There was a scuffle behind the door. It cracked open to reveal the green eyes of Dean Winchester. He blinked at her and turned his head. "Wrong British chick."

"Sorry, were you expecting someone else?" Rose asked, tilting her head.

"You weren't at the hospital." Dean accused as he opened the door. "Sammy here was concerned for your health."

"Hey." The older brother snorted from his place at the desk.

Rose smiled and dropped a small plastic package into Dean's hands. Inside was a yellowish powder that smelled faintly of cat vomit. "One order of dream root."

"Oh…How did you…?" Sam got up and took the package off his brother's hands. Rose sat on the bed nearest to the door, which smelled like guns, pizza, and beer, all of Dean rolled right in one heady aroma. She examined the strewn clothes and empty takeout boxes with a critical eye, wondering how men could get away with being such slobs. _And so quickly._

"We are of the same profession, our strings are bound to cross once in a while." Rose shrugged and let her back fall against the duvet. The muscles of her stomach pulled. She had never been so aware of her body until she could not move it properly. Like a piece of metal left out in the rain, she her muscles felt stuck and rusty.

"Is that a broom?" Dean asked. _That is obviously the most important question at the moment. Brilliant deduction, Auror Holmes. _

"Yes." Rose answered, examining the water stain on the ceiling. The pattern closely resembled a bloodstain and she cringed internally. "I ride brooms around when I cannot apparate. My skills in making port-keys have always been lacking."

Dean looked like he didn't want to believe her. Stereotypes were rarely true in his line of work, and Rose had chosen to prove one of the most absurd. "Dream root…so…"

A knock sounded on the door. Dean looked back at his brother quizzically before opening it a fraction. Whoever stood beyond seemed to annoy him, and he stepped back, a frown on his face. "Bela. As I live and breathe."

Rose leaned on her elbows to get a look at the intruder. She was a tall woman with dirty blonde hair and intense blue eyes. She wore a black trench coat, and smiled sardonically at Dean. "You called me, remember?" Her accent was familiar, but Rose could not place its origin. _British. _She thought. _Upper class. So this is the 'other." _

"I remember you turning me down."

_They wanted her to get dream root. Bastards should have called me. _"Well, I'm just full of surprises."

Rose stayed silent as she watched the exchange. Whatever the brothers' relationship with the strange woman, it was not friendly…_well_...Rose glanced at Sam, his shifty, nervous expression and the drying drool on his face. _Perhaps it is only Dean who doesn't hold fancy. _The tall brother waved at Bela and his arm was placed conspicuously over his…nether regions. _Gross. _Rose grimaced and looked away.

"Hey, Bela. What's going on?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother and the woman distinctly ignored him. "I brought you your African dream root." Bela handed a large jar to the hunter. He placed it on the TV and Sam looked awkwardly down at the plastic bag still clutched in his free hand.

"Um."

Dean smirked. "Thanks, Bells, but we are already covered."

For the first time the woman seems to notice Rose. She turned fully, her eyebrows shooting up into her bowline and her mouth opening as if to exclaim an obscenity. There was a coldness in her eyes, as blue as the icecaps and the water in the sea. Rose pushed herself to her feet and held out her hand. "Rose Weasley, nice to meet you Bela."

Bela took her hand. It was dainty, but firm. The woman had strength despite her appearance. "It seems that the Winchesters saw fit to replace me. Where are you from?"

"London, but I schooled for a time in Northern Scotland."

"Oh?" The woman asked. "What was the name? Perhaps I'll recognize it?"

"I highly doubt that." Rose faked a smile as the tension broiled in the room. The woman did not release her hand, and her grip was beginning to hurt. Rose didn't like her. There was nastiness in her dull eyes. A vapid desperation. "It was a very _selective _establishment."

"I bet." It sounded like an insult. Bela released her hand and turned back to the boys. "I would like my dream root, please. At the very least I could sell it back. Is there any way I could help?"

Judging by the men's reaction, she didn't express charity often. "What's the catch?"

"You said this was for Bobby, right?"

Dean nodded.

"He saved my life once," she paused, glancing meaningfully at Sam, sensing his weakness. _Like a tigress in heat. _"In Flagstaff."

Rose didn't know where Flagstaff was, but she knew enough of the world to call bullshit. The woman was hiding something. _What does she want from these boys? _Dean looked like he agreed with Rose. "No offense, I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head."

Sam looked down at the yellow packet of powder, disappointed. Dean picked up the jar of African Dream root and tucked it under his arm. Rose watched uneasily as he walked to the closet, turned on the light, and opened the safe. Her eyes grazed over the silver gun resting in the back before the safe door was closed again. Dean spun the lock for an extra measure. The dream root was gone.

"No offense taken," Bela said, sounding as if the opposite was true. "It's two a.m. Where am I supposed to go?"

Dean shrugged and waved his hand absent-mindedly to the door. "Get a room. Ah, they have magic fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it." He was smiling. Rose couldn't help but feel a little pleased.

Bela huffed and tugged her jacket over her shoulder, throwing her bag on her arm. She slammed the door as she left. Rose choked down a delighted laugh. "Bitch." She breathed.

Dean waggled his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips. "Sums up the better side of her personality."

Sam, looking a little put off, muttered under his breath and went back to the desk. Dean glanced at him, confused. "What's up your ass?"

Sam spun around, pointing at Rose. "Why her and not Bela? What's so different?"

"Hey!" Rose exclaimed.

Dean flashed a grin. "How about Rose never tried to kill us, or steal from us, or basically screw us over at every turn?"

_Well, at least I have an ally in this damned little world. Too bad it's Dean Winchester. _"So are we going to do this, or what?" She ruffled around in her pockets and pulled out Bobby's grey hair. "I brought the secret ingredient."

"It needs to go into a tea." Sam muttered, still injured from his brother's apparent betrayal.

"Good thing you kept a British person around then." Rose said, pushing herself from the bed and hobbling into the makeshift kitchen. "You Americans are rubbish at making tea." _Kept throwing it in the ocean, if I remember correctly. _"I want to adapt the mixture to have characteristics of the dreamless sleep potion. We are in Bobby's territory, and will have less control over our environment than if we were in our own head."

Sam twitched, taking a half a step toward her before thinking better of it. "Can…Can I watch you make it?"  
"Of course." Rose turned and gave him a tiny smile.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and sat on the bed, the sheets still warm from the heat of Rose's body. He resisted the urge to bury his head in the cotton and breathe in her lingering scent. _Wind and earth._

"No…that goes in after eight seconds, not three." Rose scolded, staying Sam's hand when he attempted to add poppy seeds to the boiling mixture of water, powder, and herbs. Dean swallowed a laugh and lay against the bed, listening to Rose's foreign lilt as she lectured Sam on the science of potion brewing.

_Rose is not the enemy. _Dean realized. She wasn't a friend, not really, neither was she Bela. Dean was not afraid of Rose Weasley. _Just the opposite. _She changed things, and in his opinion made them better. _I'm getting soft. _For freakin' sake she was brewing a potion in their motel room! His head turned and observed the broom leaning against the wall by the door. _Don't think about it. _Dean mused. He seemed to be telling himself that a lot lately.

* * *

"Bottom's up." Rose murmured, and raised her glass. It was filled to the brim with a milky blue liquid, still warm from the cauldron. Sam and Dean clinked their glasses with hers and tossed it back. Rose shuddered at the taste, but finished the tea to the last drop.

Dean looked around the room, smacking his lips. "Feel anything?"

Sam squinted and rubbed his eyes. "Um…maybe? Everything is a little…"

"Echo-y." Rose finished, standing. "Look…it's raining up."

Thunder crackled and lightning flashed outside. The world began to grey, and suddenly the motel décor was replaced with a living room. Sam jumped back from the window as it shifted into a fireplace.

"Where are we?" Dean asked, standing from his seat on the couch.

Rose's mouth twisted. "Bobby's house." _A woman lives here. _She thought, observing the neatness of the room. Not a speck of dust clouded the windows, and the paint was lustrous, the walls scrubbed. _So this is what Bobby dreams about. _

"Bobby?" Dean called.

Sam walked over to the stairs, the wooden floors creaking from the pressure of his boots. Rose followed Dean, her heart thudding in her chest. "This isn't really…"

"Pleasant, I know." The older Winchester answered.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered, turning back to Dean. "I'm going to look outside."

Goosebumps spread over her skin and Rose shook her head. "Don't….we need to stay together."

"We need to find Bobby." Sam said more forcefully. His hand touched the doorknob.

Rose raised her wand and snapped a quick stinging hex at Sam's hand. He jerked back with a muffled shout. "What the hell?"

"Pull yourself together Sam. Why would Bobby be outside in the rain?" Something was trying to get _in. _She could feel the assault on her being, a probing, nasty finger. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. _Remember your lessons. _Every Auror was trained in occlumency, and in the dreamscape she was especially vulnerable to attack. "Get out of my head." Rose growled to no one in particular.

"I _need _to go outside." Sam whined. Rose ignored him, and locked the door with a silent spell.

"Get behind me." Rose ordered, and the men did as she commanded. "_Homenum Revelio." _A red light marked the doors of the kitchen, another up the stairs. "Two people in the house. Sam, take the stair, Dean and I will get the kitchen."

The red dot faded as Rose opened the doors to the kitchen, cleaner than she had ever seen. "Where did it go?" Dean asked, still behind her.

"Hallway." Rose pointed. Dean pushed past, his hand reaching for his gun. Rose raised her wand, her boots gracing over the floor without as much as a squeak. There were three doors. The last, at the end of the hall, was scored with long scratches. _There. _

Dean laid his hand on the knob, his eyes fixed on the marks. "Bobby?" He whispered. "Are you in there?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me, open up." Dean stepped back and nodded to Rose, who lowered her wand. _Thank Merlin. _

Bobby cracked open the door. His face resembled the state of the door, his eyes wide with fear. "This is a hell of a nightmare." He murmured. He grazed over Dean and looked to Rose. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting you out." Rose said. "We need to find whatever is keeping you here."

"Why do you think I was in the closet?" Bobby gruffed as the light began to flicker. "I can't find a signal gun in this whole damn house and she…well she won't leave me well enough alone." He pointed past them to a woman in white. Her hair was neatly made and her dress was a clean. _She looks pissed. _Rose observed, back peddling into Dean. The hunter caught her by the shoulder.

"Who is that?"

"My wife." Bobby answered his voice cracking. "She's been chasing me around this house for hours. At first I didn't realize it was a dream but…something changed. Now I can't wake up."

"Your wife?" Dean repeated, as if the possibility had never occurred to him.

Bobby nodded, swallowing hard. "I killed her. She was possessed…I didn't know what to do."

Rose laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Something's cannot be helped. But she isn't really your wife. She's just a figment of your memory, twisted into something…"

"Terrible." Bobby murmured, and let out a breath. The woman flickered and disappeared, and it was as if the air was released back into the room.

Rose sighed in relief. "Good. Now bring us to the living room, we need to find Sam." _Hopefully he didn't go outside. _

The room shifted and they were back, surrounded by dusty books and supernatural clutter. Rose liked it better the messy way. _It's more Bobby than that Muggle magazine shite. _"Sam?" Rose called.

"Sammy!" Dean echoed, glancing up the stairs. Rose felt a breeze and found the cracked door. _Son of a bitch. _She slipped outside before Dean could catch her sleeve. The door shut hard behind her, and Rose blinked in the bright light.

Sam lay on the ground, a man with a baseball bat standing above him. "…nicer to me. In here…you're an insect and I'm a god."

"HEY!" Rose shouted, running toward the pair. There was no pain as her feet crushed the grass and her legs worked, faster and faster, until suddenly her hand was filled with a heavy weight. Rose skidded to a stop in front of the offender. "Jeremy." She blinked in surprise, recognizing the boy from his student ID.

Jeremy stared at the object in her hand. "How did you do that?"

Rose glanced at the silvery sword with rubies in the hilt. The witch shrugged. "Not so much of a god now, Jeremy. Get out of my friend's head." _Get out of mine. I can feel your finger, punk._

"No." Jeremy swung the bat and Rose raised the sword. The wood cracked on impact with the metal and was shorn in half. Sam struggled to his feet. Rose slashed forward, and caught the boy in the shoulder. He cried out, and the world shook, fading to grey.

* * *

Rose sat up, panting and clutching her stomach. Dean was lying next to her, his green eyes and mouth open. "You alright?" Rose asked.

"Fine." Dean groaned, and pushed her back onto the bed. "Just…stop moving. I think I'm going to be sick."

Rose shifted, facing him as her boots hung off the edge. "Nasty stuff, that Dream Root. Remind me to kick that kid Jeremy in the butt."

"Jeremy?" Rose could smell the tea on his breath. It wasn't nice. "The stoner kid?"

"Yep. He's the killer." Rose replied, feeling warm from the hunter's body heat.

"Dean?" Sam muttered from the other bed. Rose blushed, she had forgotten about the younger brother. She turned over and Dean sat up on his elbow, looking over her shoulder. Sam lay spread-eagled on the bed, a large bruise purpling across his hairline. "You okay?"

"Just awesome." Dean muttered. A hot presence spread across Rose's stomach. She looked down, recognizing his double plated silver ring. She blushed deepened, very conscious that they were in _bed…._together. _Oh Merlin. _"You?"

Sam was staring at the hand. "No thanks to Rose." They shared a glance. Sam didn't mention the sword. Rose was glad of it. She hated answering difficult questions.

"So a _girl _saved your life again." Dean sniggered and sat up in bed. Cool air flooded Rose's skin and she missed his heat in its absence. She tried not to think too much about his actions. Dean was probably used to finding women in his bed. He only acted on habit. "Bobby is probably awake." Dean shrugged on his jacket. The sound of rain was gone, and the motel room seemed strangely bereft. _Sam is looking at me weird. What is he thinking? _She hoped he wouldn't ask about the sword. _With my luck, however…_

"I can get there faster than you." Rose said, rolling out of bed and snagging her broom. "Meet you there?"

Dean blinked, glanced at the broom, and his lips lifted in a smile. "You're kidding, right?"

Rose narrowed her eyes and matched his derisive grin. "Oh, you wish pretty boy."

* * *

Dean sat next to Rose and they watched the older hunter flip through the papers of the investigation. He was pale and drawn, days of not eating solid food catching up to him. Dean cleared his throat. "All that stuff…with you wife. That actually happened?"

Bobby didn't look at him, his mouth tightening. "Everyone got into hunting somehow."

"I'm sorry."

Bobby looked up then. "Don't be. If it weren't for you and Rose I'd still be trapped in that nightmare." He paused. "Thank you."

Dean's lips twitched and Rose reached over, touching Bobby's hands lightly. She retracted quickly when Sam walked in. The younger Winchester did not comment over the exchange.

"So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now."

Bobby shook his head. "He ain't much a stoner."

Rose nodded. "In order to control dreams he must be highly intelligent, and have great control over his unconscious mind."

Bobby handed the witch a picture from the file, a paper she did not recognize from Dr. Walter's work. "Your right. Jeremy Frost. Hundred-and-sixty IQ despite the fact his dad took a baseball bat to his head."

"Hence the bat he was beating you with." Rose glanced at Sam. "He took the object of fear and turned it into his own." She stared down at the older gentlemen, with the scruffy beard and brown-ish hair. The most frightening aspect of Henry David was that he looked completely normal. Rose passed the picture to Sam.

"Father of the Year goes to…" The tall man muttered. "He's not around?"

"He died when our murderer was 10. The injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand and he hasn't dreamt since." Bobby coughed. "That is, until he started to take the dream root."

Rose looked out the window. "He got inside your head, Bobby. Rooting around in your skull, touching things that he had no right to. He'll do it again the minute you go to sleep until he kills you. We have to stop him."

Sam frowned. "How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair or DNA or something?"

Bobby blushed and gave an apologetic look to Rose. "Before I knew him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest figging thing."

Dean began to fidget. Rose raised her eyebrows. "You have to be kidding me."

He laughed nervously. "I was thirsty."

"Dean," Sam groaned, burrowing his head in his hands. "Now he can come after both of you."

Bobby let out a tired sigh. Rose could empathize. Sometimes it felt like their greatest enemy was Dean's lack of common sense. "Well, we better find them first," the older hunter said. "We'll have to work fast, because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep."

Rose shrugged. "I don't know…"

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

Rose pulled her eyes from the outside and met the older brother with a fierce gaze. "Why don't we…excuse my muggle slang…meet him on his own turf? We know his weaknesses…"

"So what?" Dean growled. "He trapped Bobby in his head, what's to stop him from doing the same to us?"

She never took her eyes off Sam. "If we can manipulate the dream environment we can get the better of him. Cripple him with fear as he did you, Bobby."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Dean asked, he was looking at her strangely. Rose couldn't tell if he was angry, as his face implied, or concerned by the light of his eyes. _Perhaps it is my overworked imagination. _Why would Dean care if she was hurt? _Because I want him too. _

"I think she's right." Sam cut in, surprising both men. _"_Three against one? Why not?"

"Three?" Dean said. "No…Rose isn't coming with us."

"What?" Rose exclaimed, leaning away from him. "It was my idea."

Dean brushed her stomach with his hand. "You could get hurt again. I can't allow that."

"It's not yours to allow." Rose growled. _So much for wanting his concern. Bothersome stuff-protectiveness. "_I'm going."

"No."

"Stop being such a child." She threw his words back in his face and watched as their barbs sank in. She would not start their…partnership…by being taken off the pitch. Rose had volunteered, worked, and trained for the game, and the whims of a man would not prevent her from playing. "I'm going."

"Fine." The older Winchester conceded, his gaze flicking from hers. "Fine."

The victory did not taste as sweet as she expected.

* * *

He trapped her in the motel bathroom. How he had slipped by Dean, Rose did not know, but Sam smelled different from his older brother. Like soap and books, with the undertone of constant anxiety. _Only natural, considering their line of work. _"How?" He demanded, eyes searching hers.

Rose put down her tooth brush and sighed, staring at the deep cracks in the cabinet mirror. A spider was making its way from one corner to the next.

"Training, I suppose." It didn't make much sense; she had not consciously called the sword forth. It had pressed itself into being, as if someone had shoved it into her grip. "What do you want from me, Sam?"

"I want to know what you're doing to my brother. And I want it to stop. He's got enough shit to deal with. He doesn't need you adding on to it." His voice was as hard as his eyes, and he loomed over her shoulder, head barely fitting into the reflection of the mirror. It didn't matter. _I am not afraid of Sam Winchester. _

"That's not your choice." Rose turned and gave him her best impression of the 'Hermione-stare.' It had worked on her little brother, perhaps they were of a similar species. Sam stumbled back, his boots touching the side of the tub. "Dean can take care of himself."

"He can't." Sam said, recovering quickly. "He's been taking care of other people so long he's forgotten."

"People like you?" Rose tilted her head. "Dean doesn't need to take care of me. I am fully capable of taking care of myself." _I can't even brush my teeth in peace these days. _"What is going on, Sam? What are you two running from?"

The younger Winchester's expression became unreadable. "Nothing you can help us with."

Rose shrugged. "I wouldn't count me out so swiftly. I devoted my life to helping people in some form or another. Perhaps if you just _trust _me…" She left the last bit hanging.

Sam swallowed the space between words, his head dipping until his eyes were covered by the long locks of his hair. "I can't do that. I have a habit of trusting the wrong people."

"I'm not going to turn you into a toad when your back is turned, Sam." _No matter how tempting it is sometimes. _

"What do you want from us?" He asked hopelessly.

Rose spread her hands and bit her lip. _What do they want from me? _ "I don't know. Maybe I just want some friends." Nothing had ever tasted so true as it left her tongue. Sam looked at her then, and she recognized his burning loneliness as her own.

* * *

Birds tweeted happily in the trees, and the sky held not a trace of cloud. Rose ran her hand over the soft emerald grass and turned her head toward the man beside her. Dean stood, looking a little lost in the pleasant environment. At the bottom of the hill, by the little pond with an arching bridge and a gravel beach rimmed with cattails, sat a brunette woman on a picnic blanket. She held a glass of wine in her hand as she watched a boy search for frogs along the edge of the water.

"Who is she?" Rose asked, looking up at the hunter, who stared at the scene with a desperate hunger.

"Lisa. Lisa and her son Ben."

Something tightened in her chest and Rose looked away, down at the pond where the boy squealed as he spotted his quarry. "Yours?"

"No."

_But he wants him to be. _"So this is what Dean Winchester dreams about." _Serenity. _

"Don't look at me like that." He growled, and sat down next to her. They were shaded by a tall oak tree, its branches laden with green acorns.

"No…it's a good dream." Rose was jealous, not of the woman or the child, but the man who could close his eyes and see peace. Rose was thankful they were not in her head, where death and fear ruled and the only rest was a grey nothing-ness. "When will Jeremy show?" Sam stood on the other side of the tree, keeping a look out for the college boy, a murderous Sandman with a baseball bat.

"Thanks." He seemed sad. Rose resisted the urge to grab his hand and never let go, to shoulder some of his inner pain onto herself. She had a feeling that Dean would not appreciate the effort. _Some people have to stand on their own. "_Soon. Son of a bitch can't resist tramping around in other people skulls, and I practically wave a red flag."

"We'll be ready." Rose assured. "Just remember what we discussed." _Don't run off, don't chase him. _It would be too easy for him to divide and conquer that way. There was no rush, in a dream an hour could be a thousand years. Theoretically, they had eternity. Rose didn't think it would take that long.

"What do you dream about, Rose?" Dean asked.

The witch closed her eyes and imagined Hogwarts, with its rising terraces and spiraling towers. The windows burned with torch light, reflecting on the still waters of the Black Lake. She remembered climbing moving staircases and looking up at the Great Hall ceiling, watching storms crackle while safe underneath a stone roof. She smelled thick parchment and wet ink, felt the warmth of the Common room fire on her face. _That is what I would dream about. That is my peace. _"Home." She said, holding his eyes, brown on green.

"Guys." Sam called, breaking their concentration on each other. Dean stood quickly and helped Rose to her feet. They gathered by the taller hunter, whose fingers pointed out over the hill, beyond the park playground to a lone man sitting on a bench, a bat across his knees. Jeremy had his eyes fixed on them, and his stillness made Rose uneasy.

"What is he doing?" Dean growled, stepping forward. Rose caught his arm and shook her head.

"No. We have to stick together." It was too late. The world shimmered around them and Sam was gone, leaving the witch alone with the older brother.

They were in a motel room, dark and shadowy. The difference sent Rose's vision reeling and she blinked away floaters. Her hand was still gripping Dean's jacket. "Are you okay?"

The hunter turned, his face unreadable. Rose released him, stepping backwards, but the hunter matched her pace, driving her closed and closer to the bed. "What are you doing?" Rose asked as the back of her knees hit the edge.

Dean lunged, and Rose splayed across the sheets, unable to move, unable to take her eyes away from the hunter. He tore at her clothes, his breath hot on her face. Despite herself, Rose felt her body respond, and suddenly his lips were on hers, stealing her breath. He pushed her farther into the mattress, using his body weight to remove any potential of struggle.

His hands were hot as they stole under her shirt, and Rose couldn't help but gasp. His knee was between her legs, the green in his eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils. "Is this what you want?" He asked.

"Merlin…" Rose breathed, and his mouth was at her throat, nipping and sucking, drawing short exclamations of pleasure. She had never felt anything like the desire before, and it scorched her skin. _What have I been missing?_

His teeth scrapped over the skin just below her ear and she shivered, arching into him. One arm went under her waist and he pressed her close to his body. She blushed, feeling the evidence of his own want.

"Is this what you want?" he demanded again, her ear moist with his breath. He shifted, rubbing against her. Rose cried out.

"Y…ye…" _Was it? _There was no doubt she found Dean attractive, but did she really want _this _from him? Reality washed over her like cold water and she squirmed underneath his grip. "No. Nononono, geroff."

His head reared back and he bared his teeth. "Dirty little liar. Slut. You've panted after me since we first met."

_Something is wrong. _His eyes were black, there was blood on his mouth. Pain resonated from her neck and she knew that his bite had gone too deep, that she was marked. "You're not Dean." She attempted to push him away, but the hunter was too strong, too heavy. Her wand was missing. _How could I forget? _She was in a dream…a dream. She had forgotten. Now she was going to pay the price for her lack of attention.

"How do you know?" The stranger Dean whispered. "How do you know this isn't _what he really wants?" _He thrust hard against her body and Rose cried out not in pleasure, but pain. His face shifted, and she could see the evil underneath his skin, a boggart, a dementor, occupying the body of her friend. She didn't have her knife. Rose was helpless.

_This is just a dream. _ She closed her eyes, letting her muscles slacken. The demon Dean chuckled and continued his frenzied movements at her buckles and buttons. Rose waited as his hands went to his own clothes, and kicked up, hard.

"_Oomph." _ Dean rolled off of her as her leg connected with more sensitive bits. She scrambled to her feet and faced him. Light burst outside and thunder rolled. It was raining again.

The demon began to laugh as he struggled to stand, his true face depraved with an evil humor. "That…that was good. Always underestimating you, Rose Weasley."

"Get out of him." Rose snarled, wishing she had a weapon.

The demon spread his hands. "Don't you get it? I _am _Dean. See your little…snuggle buddy? He's been keeping things from you. Like the fact he's going to die in a couple of months, and that little bright soul you admire so much is going straight to hell."

Rose licked her lips, taking the information in. _Demons lie. _That was what Bobby had told her those first couple of days when they had begun their testing. She had found the opposite to be true. The beasts were more likely to speak pure, for truth often cut deeper than a falsity. "So?"

The demon laughed. "What do you think happens to souls when they go to hell? They turn into this. _And you can't stop it." _

Rose kept her eyes on the demon, and felt the weight of his words. Dean was going to hell. Dean was going to be a demon. _"What are you two running from?" _She had her answer now.

"So be it." She said to the demon. Her hand was suddenly filled with a very solid weight and the false Dean's eyes widened dramatically.

"A _sword." _He said, his tone full of pity and humor. "Oh, you poor little girl, you're so naïve."

"I can say the same for you." Rose said, and brought the blade of Gryffindor down onto his shoulder. The edge went through his skin like butter, and Dean burst apart in a shower of gray dust and crackling smoke. Rose raised her arm to protect her eyes.

The world changed. She was on the hill again, the picnic was packed up and gone, and her boots rolled against fallen acorns. The sun was setting in the west over the pond, lighting up Fred's mop of red hair in captured flame. She handed him the sword of Gryffindor as she felt the dream world begin to collapse around her. Someone had dealt with Jeremy, his control was slipping, and Dean was waking up.

"Thank you." She said, as the light of the setting sun seemed to take over her field of view. "Keep that for me?"

"Always." Fred -who-was-not-Fred responded.

Rose opened her eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. Thank you for reading, leaving a review for any comments, critiques or questions. _  
_

(If I don't respond, it is because an answer will be found further in the story.)


	15. Chapter 15

"_The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring /_

_New Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell, /_

_And, after all their tribulations long, /_

_See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, /_

_With joy and peace triumphing, and fair truth."_

Book III: Lines 333-38. _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Fifteen.

"_And that's the fifth straight win for our local boys this season. Tom, back to you." _ Gary swallowed a lump in his throat, wiping the dish and placing in the rack. The TV droned in the other room. His parents were quietly murmuring about the news and their days, sipping beer as their son finished the last of the dishes.

He closed his eyes, rubbing the spot where his too-large glasses pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything about him was oversized, from his baggy clothes hanging around his frame, to the puffiness in his cheeks and the way his hair curled, bright and orange in the yellow kitchen light. A pimple itched on his chin, but he resisted scratching it, not wanting another scar from the malicious skin condition doctors said was normal for boys his age. Gary couldn't help but picture Roger Barnes's perfect smooth skin and lens-less vision, jealousy knotting his stomach.

He wandered into the living room, grateful that the sports section was over, not willing to face the uncomfortable stares of his parents as they wondered how they got stuck with a not-so-skinny nerd when the town seemed filled with sports champions. His sister sat on the rug, still in her pink tutu from dance class a couple of hours before. Melanie had the same ginger hair, but hers was cute rather than, well, ugly. She was the princess, and Gary hated that he loved her with all his heart. He hated that he couldn't even be jealous of his own sister.

"Gary!" She squeaked. Barely out of toddlerhood, her steps were unsteady as she launched herself at his legs. "Look, book! Read!" She held up a chapter book way beyond her age-group. Gary picked it out of her hands and sat down pretzel-style on the carpet. She climbed into his lap, her hair smelling like strawberry bubblegum.

"Not when the TV's on, Gary." Their mother complained, not even looking at the pair. Gary sighed and ruffled his sister's hair, setting the _Magic Tree House _novel beneath the side table. "At bedtime, okay?" He picked her up and placed her on her feet, feeling annoyed that their mom had interrupted reading for television. How an academic had grown from a former Rocky Beach cheerleader and linebacker, was a miracle of genetics.

Gary stood and brushed off his jeans, keeping the irritation from his face as he grabbed his jacket and flashlight. "I'm going to the beach."

"Don't bring back any more of those damn rocks." His father growled from the Lazy-boy. "We don't need any of that crap in our house."

Gary didn't respond. He wanted to point out that the rocks remained solely in his room, and didn't bother anyone, but that argument would be mute on his father. He waved good-bye at a sorrow-faced Melanie and tramped into the night.

They lived in a small ranch a half mile from the Atlantic coast, so close that Gary could taste the salt in the air and listen to the crash of the waves against the beach. His sneakers slipped over the water beaten pebbles, millions of years old and as smooth as a baby's bottom. His flashlight danced over the water, frightening crabs and tide-eager fish. He hummed as he picked up different stones, mentally categorizing their type into his collection. He hated his home life, hated his school, and his town, but the ocean called to him, and if he got the right scholarship to the right college, Gary promised he would return.

The waves masked the sound of approaching feet, and Gary did not see his attackers until they were upon him. Hands, large and strong, grabbed his shoulders and covered his mouth. He screamed anyway, thrashing against the grip of several people. His flashlight clattered onto the rocks, the glass shattering upon impact. The last light disappeared, leaving only the half-full moon and the distance dots of coastal houses.

"Jesus." One attacker muttered as Gary continued to thrash. His eyes were wide and open, panic-stricken, but the men had dark masks on, that covered all but their mouths and the whites of their eyes. "Someone hit him."

A fist crashed down on the back of Gary's head and he slumped forward, dazed. Heavy ropes bound his wrists and ankles, knots tightened with boy-scout expertise. His body calmed, Gary recognized the strained laughs and hushed voices. They had haunted his heels since the fifth grade, the first time anyone had spoken the cliché' kids can be cruel' to his face. "Roger?" he murmured, something felt loose in his mouth.

"Shit." A boy spat.

"Don't worry about it." Another said, pushing Gary into a walk. "It's not like he'll be able to tell anyone anyway.

"Yeah, but I mean…its _Gary."_

"Shut. Up." The leader snarled. Gary felt cold water lap his toes and he shrieked, leaping back only to be shoved forward again, deeper into the frigid shallows of the ocean. Seaweed clung to the material of his jeans and the rocky sand squished beneath his thin sneakers. Dread filled him as the kidnappers' fingers dug into his shoulders, further and further until his mouth filled with salt water. He couldn't struggle as his bones began to lock up with cold.

"Speak." The leader said.

Voices began to chant in a language Gary didn't recognize. Tongues sputtered around unaccustomed vowels and the boys stopped and halted several times, reading from a practiced script. Gary felt the tide rising, and hoped desperately that this was some kind of joke.

Suddenly a presence swelled around his legs and he gurgled, trying to spin and return to shore. The hands on his body fell away as his captors scrabbled back into steadier waters, leaving him alone, bobbing in the depths, unable to swim or tread water. Something large brushed against his legs and he screamed, his throat filling with brine.

A tug on his legs, and the ropes fell away. His hands were next, and suddenly he was free, but his arms were too cold to respond to his brain's command of _swim! _Warmth embraced him, strong but thin arms. Woman arms. The arms he wished his mother had. They turned his helpless body around and he faced the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even in the dark her eyes glowed, framed by caramel skin and dark, long hair that floated and drifted in the water as if it was a part of it. "I accept." She said with a smile, and for the first time Gary felt like he was truly wanted.

When she pulled him farther out to sea, he didn't protest.

* * *

Dean sat with his feet hanging over the edge of the boardwalk, gazing out into the sea. His tie hung loose around his neck, and the sleeves of the jacket were rolled up to his elbows. The sun danced over the water, deep and dark, tipped with the occasional splash of light. Out in the distance, an orange buoy bobbed, marking shallow waters for ships and boats alike.

He recognized the heavy stride of his brother and he turned, facing Sam with a peaceful look on his face. "You know," The younger Winchester began, leaning his forearms against the rail. The breeze brushed the hair from his face. "It's sort of hard to convince people we're FBI when it looks like you're on vacation."

Dean shrugged, unconcerned. The air tasted like salt and smelled like fish. Gulls squawked at the beach, angry at the uniformed officers and their German shepherds for interrupting their daily clam bake. "Have they found anything?" He asked, turning his gaze back to the ocean.

"No. Fourth person to go missing since August. All teenagers and all of them were last seen at night on this beach."

"What's their theory?"

Sam choked down a chuckle. "Riptides."

Dean snorted and watched the waves smack into the wooden supports of the boardwalk. "That water has to be thirty-degrees. No one is that stupid."

"That's what I'm thinking. However, the local PD said they haven't found any evidence of foul play or a motive against any of these kids. Most of them aren't even seniors." Sam shook his head with a sigh.

Dean bit his lip and got to his feet. A gull landed on the railing, clacking its beak and eyeing the brothers for any tasty treats. When they offered none it gave a disgruntled honk and shat upon the wood. Dean scrunched his face in disgust and turned away from the dripping, white mess. "We should be looking for Bela."

"Chasing our tails around the country is only going to cost us gas. She'll slip up, sometime. For now…"

"We do our jobs," Dean grumbled as they walked back to the beach. "Lunch?"

"Fine by me." Sam shrugged.

The little café, with a menu that offered burgers and fries, was decorated with fishing nets and old ship wheels. The waitress, dark-skinned with hair tied back in a magnificent bun, clicked her pen and stared at the brothers with a bored stare. "You agents here for those missing boys?" She asked, her accent out of place in the New England town. "Real shame, that."

"Yes ma'am," Sam replied, as polite as always. "You know anything?"

The woman fingered her necklace made from red and white beds. "Nah, Agent. Just a real tragedy that it had to be a happening during the season."

"What season?" Dean asked. The waitress turned and pointed to the diner's one flat screen, attached to the wall over the bar. Football highlights rolled and a couple of men in flannel shirts and leather boots watched with joyful rapture.

"Rocky Beach Krakens. They're going to be state champions this year, just you wait and see."

"The football team?" Sam asked, his eyes squinting as he made out the tiny players. The red and white uniforms explained the excess of the paired colors he'd seen around town. Everyone seemed to be wearing the combination in some way or another.

"Yes sir, now, can I get you agents anything?" The woman took their order and walked away, her long, colorful skirt swinging around her legs.

"I can't believe people are more concerned about football than four missing teenagers." Sam muttered angrily. Dean shrugged and snagged the desert menu, searching for pie. Some things his geek of a brother just wouldn't understand.

* * *

Dean bent over, eyeing the lines of stones that all looked the same to him, but were labeled with meticulous care. The shelves took up a good two-thirds of the small room, the rest occupied by a bed and dresser. It was cleaner than Dean had expected the living space of a teenage boy to be, the former occupant giving just as much organizational energy to the rest of his life as he did to the stones.

Sam was attempting to sweet-talk information from the bitter parents of one Gary Thymes. He picked up a stone specked with white, turning it over, wondering how someone could enjoy things so boring. A twin pair of blue eyes stared in the open doorway, blinking at him from waist-height.

He set the stone down. "Hello, who are you?"  
"Gary doesn't like people touching his rocks." The girl said, waddling in. She was dressed in multi-shades of pink, and clutched a thin chapter book.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't." Dean flashed her 'the look' that worked on girls of all ages (except, apparently Rose.) He put the thought of witch out of his mind as he sat down on the boy's bed. The girl stayed by the door. He wondered if this was how any child of Rose would look like; flame haired and bright-eyed. "What you got there?"

The girl held up the book for him to see. He didn't recognize the title, but he nodded anyway. "Good, you like to read." The girl shook her head, stuffing a corner of the book into her mouth. Dean gave up. Trying to get any information out of a four year old was like trying to get blood from a stone. _Not going to happen. _The hunter patted the kid on the head and walked out of the room. Sam was standing in front of the door, looking frustrated. "Thanks, Mrs. Thymes, we'll be in touch."

"Well that was…" Sam growled and shook his head as they talked over the roof of the Impala. Dean jerked a thumb back at the house, where the pinched face of Mrs. Thymes peaked through the crack of the window.

"Out of prying ears, Sammy."

Sam followed his gaze and rolled his eyes, folding his tall frame into the car. Dean sat down into the familiar seat of his baby, rubbing his hands over the worn steering wheel, taking a deep whiff of leather and gun power. _Misty was right, smells like man in here. _

Their motel over looked the ocean, and salt had worn the yellow paint away from the wood. The inside smelled like lobster and the bed was rough with granules of sand. The mattress squeaked in protest when Dean sat down to take off his boots.

Sam stood, disquieted, by the window. "I think Gary Thymes was bullied in school." He blurted, his hands folded tightly against his chest.

Dean paused in his movements and lifted his eyebrows. "Judging by the excessive rock collection, I'd say, yeah."

"He was a smart kid. Good grades on his test, nineteen hundred on his SATs, he was going to college." The question remained in his voice, one Dean never tried to answer, because the result was always unsatisfying. _Why?_

"And the others." Sam continued. "Margret Clock, regional chess champion. Henry Noir, won a short film contest sophomore year. Dale Cerns, headed the library program for summer reading."

"You know what they all sound like, Sam?" Dean threw his shoes into the corner and got a beer from the fridge. He untwisted the top and tossed the cap into the sink. Some things his brother couldn't see because he was sunk to eye level in the same crap. "Nerds. Virgin, lonely, rock collecting nerds."

Sam shot him a nasty look. "They would have been successful, productive members of society. What does the rest of the school have to offer? Football players? Cheerleaders?" He shook his head in disgust.

"You played soccer." Dean pointed out, tired. His high school days were over, the conflict between nerds and jocks just another silly memory.

"Yeah, but that was when I was little. I was more like these kids than the other side." Sam always got twisted up in the worst of the case. _Emotionally Invested, Dad would have said. _It was his greatest weakness. When was his brother going to learn to stop caring so much? The older Winchester took a long draw from the beer and smacked his lips.

"Any theories as of yet, Lewis Skolnick?" He slapped his brother on the back.

Sam rolled his eyes and blew out a breath, shaking the tension from his arms. "No. Hmm…riptides." He wandered over to his computer case. Dean watched him go, a smile playing on his face. Who was he kidding? Sam was never going to change.

* * *

A knock on the door caused Rose to look up from her bowl of cereal. She turned to Misty, silently asking her friend if she was expecting anyone, but the blonde turned back to her computers with a shrug.

Rose opened the door a crack and peaked through, her eyebrows rising when she recognized the face beyond. "Thomas Winters?" She greeted, half questioning, half surprised. She had nearly forgotten the existence of the small environmentalist, who looked just as harried and scruffy as he had many months ago.

The man flashed her tight smile and held up a manila folder. "Have a minute?

Rose stepped back and let him pass. The wards showed no reaction to his presence. Thomas Winters was one-hundred percent human. He looked around the cabin with a raised eyebrow, lingering over the propped broomstick by the door and the stacks of old books intermingling with tangled electronics. London hooted from his roost in the corner, eyes half-closed and sleepy from a night enjoying the warmer spring weather. "Northern Hawk Owl." He observed. "Have a permit for his care?"

"His appearance is a mere coincidence. I have nothing to do with the friendliness of wild animals." Rose said, a tiny smile on her lips. She relaxed when Thomas matched it. "So what do you need, Mr. Winters?"

"I might have something of your sort. First I want to thank you for taking care of the wolves. A bill has entered the Legislative for the official protection of the pack. Whatever you did…it saved them. Cattle deaths have gone down exponentially."

"All thanks to you, Mr. Winters. It was your observations that lead to the conclusion of the case."

The man nodded absent-mindedly, flipping open the folders to review papers of black-and-white statistics, measurement, and cramped scientific writing. "I have connections to a marine biologist doing research on the northern coast of Connecticut on cold-water algae. He emailed me his paper just a couple of weeks ago, and when I contacted him in return, he mentioned some unusual serpentine activity along the coast. Unusual, because the temperature of the water creates a hostile environment for a cold-blooded reptile. Against physiological expectations, recent months have seen a positive boom in marine squamates."

Rose nodded, taking the folder and attempting to understand the jargon. She did not even get past the first sentence. "And this has to do with me..?"

"I looked up Rocky Beach, Connecticut, the town where he was stationed. Four teenagers have vanished along the coast in the last four months, directly corresponding to the rise of snake activity." He paused, and looked her straight in the eye. "You disappeared right in front of me. Gone…I am not so blind to think my mind had played tricks on my eyes. After that experience, I began recognizing other strange happenstances, blips in data over-looked by logical eyes. I am afraid you have cursed me, for now I doubt every assumption science has made."

"We are beyond science, Mr. Winters. Do not lose your faith. I will investigate this…occurrence. Perhaps I can find your answers."

Thomas waved and hand and walked toward the door. "I do not want to know, Rose Weasley. I'd rather keep my sanity, even if it lies in ignorance." He shook his head and he closed the door behind him. Misty, who had remained silent throughout the encounter, spun around in her computer chair and knocked her ear-phones onto her neck.

"What a strange little man."

Rose nodded and set the folder down onto the table. She had work to do. "Look up cross mythologies on snakes and coastal waters."

"You have some idea what this might be?"

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Off the top of my head…no. If it were not for the snakes, I would have speculated kelpies. Nasty creatures." She swung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed a silver cell phone from the table at Misty's side. The blonde cleared her throat and Rose abashedly handed it back. Misty slipped the cell into a lead lined case and tucked it into Rose's pockets. After coming back from Pittsburgh, Rose had discovered the negative effects apparating had on muggle devices. They usually ended up looking like the leavings of tiny, imploded bombs.

"Call me when you get there, hey?" The blonde said, as Rose grasped her hand. The sleeves of her robe pulled up showing the thin white scars that decorated her forearm, reminding the women of the dangers they faced everyday.

"Promise." Rose said, releasing her friend and disapparating away.

Misty watched her computer screen as a red dot appeared on the map of Rocky Beach, Connecticut. A pair of blue dots blinked into existence only a quarter of a mile away. "Sam and Dean," Misty puzzled, zooming in on the map. The brothers were staying at a rather down trodden motel at the edge of the beach; the same motel Rose was walking to at that very moment. "Well shit."

Serendipity could really bite a person in the arse.

* * *

Rose couldn't resist setting her bag down in the sand and slipping off her boots. The ground was wet and cold beneath her toes, and she squealed, dancing toward the waves, letting the tide tickle the fine hairs of her feet. The wind blew strongly from the sea, whipping back her hair and blasting her with all the scents of the ocean. Most of which consisted of fish and rotting seaweed.

_I love it anyway. _

When her toes became unbearably numb Rose picked up her boots and bag, walking toward the debilitated building formally called a 'motel.' A passer-by in red and white had pointed her way toward the sea, smiling at her request for price-effective living. A Confundus charm went unnoticed in places of low publicity, and their computer systems made it easy for Misty to log in a reservation and eventual payment. (Rose was unable to travel magically with credit cards, It did something funky to the magnetic strip.)

A wave of her wand got her a confused frown and a room key to a sea-shell themed room with sand covered carpets. The windows had an excellent view of the turbulent ocean, unaffected by the mouth eaten curtains. _Home sweet home. _She sighed and tossed her bag onto the single bed. The mattress squeaked.

_If only long distance apparation wasn't so exhausting. _Rose walked back into the hallway, and her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Relieved that it had not combusted on her way to the town, Rose plucked it from its case and hit the green button on the screen. She marveled at Muggle technology. 'Touch-screen' was a magical science she couldn't comprehend. "Misty?"

"I'm sending you a link to the local spots of interest, specially the high school, police station, and each of the missing person's houses. The profiles for the four teenagers I sent via attachment. Do you remember how that works?"

"Yes…"

"Good. I think Winters was right…something looks fishy around here." _No pun intended. _Rose finished and said her goodbyes to her friend as she scrolled over the screen. She glanced at the picture of the local high school, and with a turn of her heel, popped into the hedge groove hugging the brick wall.

The weekend left the school in ringing emptiness. She transversed the halls, trying to get a feeling for what it would be like to be a muggle teenager, learning about math and chemistry, hoping to go to university. The walls were decked in red and white and celebrated the victories of the school's team, from football to baseball. Mostly football, as the senior's faces decorated nearly every corner, glitter-fied and prominent. _"Who are we?" _Rose read with a touch of amusement. "_The Krakens!" _From any creature they may have picked, it was a fearsome one.

She found the locker of the victim, Margret Clock, whose things had been barely touched since the beginning of the year. The books still held certain glossiness, and the binders were wrapped in plastic. She pulled out a slim, black journal from between an Algebra textbook and a Stephanie Meyer novel. The pages were cramped with cursive written in blue ink.

* * *

_Dear Diary, _

_First day of junior year and I am already starting to dread this place. High School sucks…who ever said that it was the 'best years of your life' obviously grew up to be a total loser. Day one and that asshole Roger is already on my case. I don't know whoever came up with the name 'sex-dead nerd' but they obviously didn't know it was a poor insult. I'm PROUD to be smart…actually going to college for a sustainable career. I just hate being berated by stupid deuces all the time. I wish they knew how to play chess…then I could show them who the best is. _

_However, chess isn't much of skill to be delighted of. My mom likes to think it's a creative chastity belt…no mother in the history of the earth had ever want their daughter to get laid so badly. I swear if she tries hooking me up with that Shaun from Long Island again, I'm going to kill her. I try to tell her I'm a virgin because all the guys in school are either dumb or bad looking...she likes to think it's the fact that my hair is cut wrong and my clothes are too baggy (comfortable!) and I wear glasses. (I hate contacts.) I think that the only person who's on my side except dad is probably Gary…but I am 98% sure he's gay. Between the two of us in this school we could start the Chastity Club for Nerds (Members by social standing, not by choice!)_

_Anyway, Mrs. Beans is starting to talk and she's giving me weird looks….(come on, I have a 4.0 in this class) so I got to sign out. I don't know how I got stuck in this class with nearly the entire football team. I mean, why are they even interested in Mythology? This is the first time in twelve years I've ever seen Roger pick up a pen. Great, Beans is now glaring. Got to go.  
Margret. _

Rose brushed a stray copper hair behind her ear and closed the diary. The witch had chosen to fish the last entry made by Margret Clock, the first teenager to go missing, on the beach. Reading the diary was like touching a raw nerve, and it sparked guilt and grief in Rose's heart. It was hard to grow up, harder still to be different from the rest of the crowd.

Her bare feet curled in the cool sand, and the sea caressed her face with gentle fingers. The day was slowly fading behind her, teasing the water with pink and orange.

"I thought it was you." Rose turned at the familiar voice.

"Dean?" She asked, squinting at the dark figure standing above her.

The green-eyed hunter held out a hand. Rose took it, scrambling to her feet. The feel of his hand in hers banished the chill crawling across her skin. His eyes, bright and soft, looked down at her with mild curiosity. "Want to come back to our room? Sam ordered take out."

"Alright." Rose picked up her shoes and they wandered back to the motel. Pittsburgh hung between them, unspoken dreams and silent goodbyes. Rose had woken next to Dean in a strange bed, unable to look at him, or ask if the truth was true. Dean was going to Hell…the dream had not lied. He had sold his soul to a Crossroad's demon to bring Sam back to life. The contract was knotted tight, a noose closing around his neck. _How can I save you? _She thought, her gaze playing over the sculpted planes of his cheeks. An ache like the gong of a bell resonated through her chest.

* * *

She listened to the brother's banter as she ate egg rolls and sat crisscross on Dean's bed. The files the hunters had collected over the past couple of days were spread out before her, from the newspaper articles on the disappearances, to the tidbit on an obscure science forum about the snakes. Her brain was failing to make the connections, and Rose blamed it on the greasy American Chinese food slowly gnawing a hole through her stomach.

The television had been turned on sometime during dinner, and the local channel was broadcasting the high school football game. Rose tried to resist, muggle sports had little interest to her, but frustration won over apathy. Red boys and blue boys clashed on a field of green, stopping and pausing at various and random times to reform lines. The rules were over her head, and she frowned every time the crowd roared, and she missed Quidditch with a strict ferocity. _Dean would like Quidditch. _She mused, dripping sauce onto her toes.

"I need a drink." Dean announced. He stood up and looked directly at Rose. "Want to join me?"

"Um," Rose looked down at her research. "I have work to do."

"That's Sam's line." He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed. Rose only admitted muffled protests, glad from any contact with the hunter. The Winchester brothers had gotten used to her showing up at strange times, apparently. Sam had barely reacted when she had walked through the door with Dean, even when the witch explained it was solely coincidence. Their acceptance made her uneasy, especially Sam's, who usually demanded to know the reason for her presence in his life.

_What happened between now and Pittsburgh?_

"Where are we going?" She asked as Dean led her down the sidewalk and into the town. It was surprisingly lively. People laughed and danced down the street, decked out in red and white, the school colors.

"There's a bar just down the road." He said, and sure enough, tucked away against a gift shop and a real estate office was a blue door with a sign above it.

"The Twisted Serpent." Rose read, eyeing the green and black carving of a Boa Constrictor. "Pleasant."

The bar was less crowded than the street, but almost as dark. The single flat screen TV showed the game, and the residents glued their attention to the screen, as if it were an altar of some strange, electronic God.

The rapture made Rose uncomfortable and she sat down on the stool next to Dean, averting her eyes. She didn't pay attention when he ordered two drinks, and stared down at the surface of the bar, marred with years of pen marks and coffee rings.

"Gin for the lady?" A bubbling glass slid across the wood and bumped into her arm. She picked the lime off the edge and dropped on the ice. Rose didn't claim to be much of a drinker. A rather unpleasant incident at the Hog's Head celebrating her graduation from the Auror Academy had turned her away from getting drunk for fun.

Nevertheless she raised her glass with Dean. "To new friends." He said, and downed his whiskey. Rose, puzzled at his choice of toast, sipped her drink and stared across the bar, her gaze meeting that of a beautiful, dark skinned woman. She was sitting in the shadows and nearly invisible except for the white of her teeth and eyes. Her lips shone ruby red in the dull light, as if they were dipped in blood. Rose shivered and looked back at Dean, who was staring at her with a small smile. _Must have been strong whiskey. _Rose thought.  
"Sam told me what you did." He said.

"What I did?" She repeated, not knowing the incident he was speaking of.

He shrugged and tapped the bar to alert the tender for another round. "You wouldn't remember. The trickster reversed time, never even happened at all I suppose."

"What are you talking about?" _What is a trickster? _Rose wondered if she was about to get an explanation for the brothers strange welcome.

"It's a long story. A demi-god called a Trickster created a reality where I was shot dead by a mugger and Sam spent six months tracking it down. You helped him, through that time, kept him sane…wouldn't leave his side. Sam said you saved his life. When you guys finally tracked it down, Sam said it revealed itself to you, and when _you _asked…it reversed time, put everything back to right." He paused, and took a sip of his new drink. "I just want to ask you, Rose…when the hellhounds come, will you do the same thing? Will you watch over Sam for me?"

Rose didn't know how to respond to his request. It came from an experience she had no memory of, a reality that technically didn't exist. _I don't know what I will do if Dean dies, but how can I deny him? Sam is Dean's brother, and for all his faults…_ "To the best of my ability, I promise."

Her vow seemed to take a giant weight of Dean's shoulders, and he relaxed, light returning to his eyes. "Thanks."

_It's nothing. _"That doesn't mean I won't try to save you." The witch said.

"The contract…we can't mess with it. Or Sam dies."

"I know." Rose said. "But that doesn't mean you have to stay in Hell. I'll go down there myself and pull your sorry soul out if I have to."

Dean looked at her strangely. "I don't think that's possible."

"Anything is possible if you have enough nerve," Rose whispered, and meant it. _I am a Gryffindor. I do not leave the people I love for dead, and in some odd way, I love Dean Winchester. _Maybe it was the alcohol, but at that moment, Rose believed that Dean could be saved.

* * *

"You know, I usually just say the 'long walks on the beach' crap to get girls." Dean joked. The moon painted the wave's silver. Rose matched his bowlegged pace with hers, smiling into the sea.

"I love the ocean. My dad used to take us to his brother's cottage on the beach in Cornwall. It was always so beautiful." Every year her mother would take her to a tiny grave at the corner of the property. _'See, Rose,' _she would say, teasing her daughter's bushy hair. '_You don't have to be big to be brave.' _

The hunter and the witch returned to the motel and found Sam fast asleep on the bed. Rose crept quietly into her own room, ignoring Dean's sleepy protests for her to _stay. _

She awoke the next morning to a pounding on her door that matched the ache in her head. Groaning she buried her head deeper into her pillow. "Go away." She muttered.

"Rose? It's Sam. Another kid went missing and Dean wants breakfast."

_Merlin's beard. _Rose sighed and swung her feet out of bed. _Time to go to work._

* * *

Rose sat down next to Dean on the bench, tapping her pen against the notebook. "I think I found the connection between the victims."

The hunter was wearing dark sunglasses and his cheap FBI suit. He tilted his head in her general direction to indicate he was listening. Rose had no pre-established cover for the Rocky PD, becoming too chummy with the visiting 'Fed' might ruin their disguise. _I think he just wants to wear those glasses so he can look cool. _"Continue."

"They were all…I am speculating…virgins."

That got Dean's full attention. He whipped the glasses off and stared at her with a surprised intensity. "You are thinking..?"

"Virgin sacrifices. Did you know the Rocky Beach football had a losing streak of 12 games last season? How they are potential state champions? Without having lost a single senior player? I don't have to be a Ravenclaw to know those numbers don't add up."

"You're saying that someone in this town is sacrificing virgins in order to have a winning football team?" Dean laughed. "You've got to be kidding me. How would these people even know that these kids are virgins?"

"Because…" Rose was feeling slightly annoyed. She had been the one to talk to the latest victim's, Mary Thornton's, mother. Dean had chickened out, unwilling to pull answers from a distraught, tear-stained woman. "I believe the people doing the sacrificing are in high school themselves."

"No way…they're just kids."

_Obviously he never participated in a sports team. The Slytherins would have gladly committed human sacrifices if it meant they were to win the house cup…then again, maybe I am a little bias. _"Under your laws, perhaps. If I am not mistaken, these students rely on sports to get them into colleges or professional teams. Some might be desperate enough to use hallway gossip to their advantage."

"You really believe this?" Dean asked as Sam approached.

"Believe what?" The taller brother asked, looking more like a lawyer in his suit than a cop.

Rose cut in before Dean could answer the question. "I talked to Mary's mother. The girl had gone to the shore to pray for the souls of the missing teens. She had been the head of her youth group and friend of Henry Noir. I asked if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, her mother said that her daughter was saving herself for marriage, something she seemed sure of. I believe that every one of these victims was virgins, and the football team knows this and is sacrificing them in exchange for a winning season. I also believe Dean looks stupid in those glasses."

"Hey!" The older Winchester said, snatching the frames from his head. "I just bought these."

Sam chuckled. "So…library?"

Rose waved her phone in his direction. "Snakes, sacrifice for material gain, riptides and oceans. I've already called Misty with the specifics. She'll have a firm hit in little under an hour."

"What about your books?" Sam asked as Rose pushed herself off the bench. "Could they be any help?"

"Misty has been scanning them into her computer. Her search will contain all of my textual resources as well as what the muggle world has to offer. It's all very technical, and I do not really understand how the 'program' works. She would have to explain it to you."

"I would like that." Sam said with a thoughtful expression.

* * *

"A Mami Wata spirit." Misty chirped over the phone.

Rose sat on Dean's bed, eating from a box of cold noodles. Sam was reading through the information the blonde had sent him over the internet, his eyebrows pinched in concentration.

"A mama what?" Dean asked, his eyes focused on the cell as it sat on the night stand.

"_Mam_i." Misty corrected. "Rose, do you recognize the name?"

"Oh yes…" Rose said, feeling very taciturn. "I thought they were extinct."

"Only in your universe, Batman, but I've got a hit here of eight-nine percent certainty. Care to explain in layman's terms to Dumbo over there?"

"A Mami Wata spirit resides on the west African coasts. They drag swimmers underwater and force them to promise fidelity to their cult. Some are benevolent and offer material wealth to their admirers for free. Others can be pricey."

"Like demanding teenage virgins." Dean concluded. "What else do you know about this thing?"

"She is under the official magizoological classification of 'merfolk', although she possesses ability for the human language. She has the lower body of a fish, and is always accompanied by a large snake." _If only I could speak parseltongue. _

"How do we catch her?" Dean asked.

"That's easy," Rose said, and Sam looked up, his long face pale. "We give her what she wants."

* * *

The waves crashed along the beach, the moon clouded by an incoming storm. The police and their dogs had left hours before, leaving the shore to the crabs and the sea.

Rose walked along the rocks, her boots finding only slippery purchase. Dean walked beside her, his fury radiating off his skin like heat. "We need to talk this through."

"We already have." Rose said, shedding her robe and boots and tossing them toward land. Sam was reading a script by the light of a flashlight, his lips moving over the unfamiliar words. Mist had broken through the local football captain's firewall and stripped his files, obtaining a copy of the obscure summoning ritual from a Word Document. "Promise me, when this is done, you will bring the perpetrators to justice." Nine boys of various grade levels, roped into a game of 'let's murder the nerds' by a desperate leader hoping to go to college. Rose didn't care about their ages. Seventeen years was enough to recognize the consequences of free will.

"No." Dean said, as if it would keep her from stepping into the frigid water. Rose cast a quick warming spell on her body and slipped her wand into its holster at her ankle. The knife was strapped to her side. She nodded toward Sam.

"Are you ready?"

"Will this work?" Sam asked his voice quiet in the night.

"I have all the requirements." Rose said sadly. _I am not planning on dying tonight. _She could talk to the Mami Wata; they were intelligent and powerful beings, capable of human reason and choice. Rose walked up to her knees, the spell doing little to keep the cold at bay. "Start."

Sam began chanting in a forcing tongue as Rose went deeper, her toes sinking into the soft sand. She stopped as her chin touched the surface and her legs began to raise, their cling to the ocean floor pulled away by the tide. Something soft brushed her legs as Sam's words rose with the waves. A woman appeared before her, skin dark caramel and her eyes bright. Rose recognized her from the bar, and wondered how often the woman walked amongst humanity, laughing at their ignorance and wrangling their ever eager affection for wealth and power.

"You are not what I am used to." The mermaid said her tongue heavy with an exotic accent. A thin form sliced the water and wrapped it's self around her neck. The snake flicked its tongue at Rose.

"I needed to talk to you, Mami Wata." Rose sputtered as the water hit her mouth, and she sank beneath the surface. In the murky dark she noticed the smooth form of the woman's bottom half, streamlined and inhuman. She rose to the surface, pumping her arms to keep her head above the waves. The woman was staring at her with an ancient amusement. "You don't belong here."

"So you know my name. Not many do, but they give me such nice gifts. Speak girl, and come to me." Haughtiness laced her ruby lips.

"You need to go home." Rose said. There was no room for a being of her power along the Connecticut coast. Mami Wata belonged in warmer waters, where her presence was known and respected. _Where the muggles have their legends to protect themselves. _

The snake hissed. The woman looked sad, but her expression was vain. "I go where the people call me. I give them what they desire for a price." Her arms wrapped around Rose's neck and the witch was struck with how beautiful and cold the woman was. "I accept."

Rose sighed. "Please go home. You don't belong here."

"Humanity always wants what I can provide. They wear the red and white, dance for me and give me such pure innocence to please my desire. So weak, their pleas warm my heart. Why should I go home?" A gleeful hunger sparked in her eyes. Her mouth parted, revealing pointed teeth and breathe that smelled like blood.

Rose jerked and the knife plunged into the woman's belly. She turned her chin up and released a scream that pierced Rose's ears. The witch dove under the water, slashing at the fish fins and soft, human skin of the mermaid's belly, her heart thrumming. She kicked her way to the surface and grabbed the woman's throat, stabbing the knife into her heart until the brilliant brown eyes turned dull and the body drifted away with the tide. "You should have gone home." Rose said angrily, and swam back to shore. _I hate killing._ How had such a horrible thing become an integral part of her life? _Mum would be ashamed of me. _

She dried her clothes with her wand and put on her robes, not looking the Winchester brothers in the eye. They had heard the screams on shore, and their faces were as pale as hers.

"It is done." Rose said, and walked back to the Impala.

"What will happen to the kids she took?" Sam asked quietly.

"The Mami Wata had a fleeting attention. They're dead. The police will find them if their bodies make it to the coast." The spell holding them belong the oceans would fade with its casters death. The five teens would come home, eventually. Rose bit her lips and said nothing.

* * *

Dean and Sam left the next day, to do something, they said, about the football team. Rose packed her things into her grey bag, choosing to remain in the motel. It would be another non-goodbye, the witch decided; her ears still ringing from the sound of the Mami Wata's scream. _In my world you are nearly gone, because you entrenched on a power that was no longer yours, as it used to be. _Stubborn, narcissistic, the Mami Wata merfolk refused to leave their ancestral haunts along the Nigerian coast after the international wizarding community had retreated into secrecy. Their existence had been too much of a threat to be allowed to continue. The African Wizard Council had extinguished the species, a resonating warning to the other beings who might have been tempted to ignore the papers of the wizard law.

_And now I have done the same. _Rose was distracted by her thoughts from the ringing phone. She pressed the green button and held it up to her ear. "Misty?"

"Guess who decided to go tramping on our territory?" The blonde asked with grim determination.

"Who?"

"Grab the boys, Batman, Bela 'the Bitch' Talbot is in Monument, Colorado."

* * *

**A/N:** A special thanks to my beta reader SPNxBookworm! Leave a review with any comments, critiques, or questions (although I cannot promise I will answer). Happy reading!


	16. Chapter 16

"_Here matter new to gaze the Devil met_

_Undazzled; far and wide his eye commands;_

_For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade,_

_But all sun-shine, as when his beams at noon_

_Culminate from the equator, as they now_

_Shot upward still direct, whence no way round_

_Shadow from body opaque can fall; and the air,_

_No where so clear, sharpened his visual ray_

_To objects distant far, whereby he soon_

_Saw within ken a glorious angel stand…"_

Book III Lines: 613-22 _Paradise Lost _by John Milton, 1667

Chapter Sixteen

"I can't believe it." Rose growled.

"I did what I could," Misty sounded anxious, an undesirable change from her usual cool-headed manner. "The rest…well."

"It's up to me, I understand." _Those bloody idiots. _"I'm going to pop back into the house to change. See you in a bit." Rose sighed and stuffed the phone into her pocket. By accident her fingers brushed the surface of the golden galleon and found it blistering. _Hold your hippogriffs, Dean, I'm coming. _With a flurry of leather, Rose twisted on her heel and snapped out of sight.

* * *

Henrickson reset the phone, his shoulders tense. He tasted victory in the air, but he wouldn't allow himself to get submerged and lose focus. He could not underestimate the brothers this time, not again.

"Agent?" Sheriff M. Dodo asked.

"Yes?" The call from his superior had aggravated his senses. A chopper. So many things could go wrong in the air. _Whatever you think is best. _

The sheriff stood by the door shifting his bulk from one foot to the other. He felt the Agent's irritation, and the lack of respect roiled in his stomach. The sheriff didn't let it show on his face, he could sense how serious the situation was. "There is someone here for you."

Who? Henrickson frowned and turned, his fingers sliding over the phone. A woman appeared behind the sheriff. She had bushy red hair and light brown eyes. Small stature, fitted in a pair of blue jeans and a white blouse, leather jacket decorated with a prancing silver unicorn. He would have over looked her for a kid (she was no more than twenty-three) if it weren't for her stance. She stood like a cop.

"Who are you?" He wanted to talk to the Winchesters, to taunt them with his success and their failure. Not deal with some local.

"Sergeant Rose Weasley." She said without blinking. "I'm here for the Winchesters."

A jolt of alarm shot to his heart. He took a step back without thinking before gathering his thoughts and rising to his full height. "Turn around and face the wall. Legs spread."

The woman didn't move. Instead, she produced a brown wallet . "Scotland Yard, Agent Henrikson. Your boys are wanted across the pond for murder and criminal handsomeness to the fourth degree." She bared teeth but her eyes didn't smile.

The man snagged the wallet from her hand and flipped it open. He had never heard of any international demand for the brothers and now suddenly this woman turned up ,claiming to be from Scotland Yard no less. This wasn't a damn television show. Henrickson scrutinized the official lettering and the metal badge inside, admitting privately he had no expertise in British police credentials. "I am going to have to call this in. Don't move."

The woman held up her hands and leaned against the wall, noting the office and its occupants. Henrickson picked up the phone, turning his back on the red-headed stranger. "It's me again, yeah; I'm going to need you to check something out."

* * *

Sam and Dean were just down the hall. Rose kept her eyes away from the cell block entrance, not needing to draw any more attention to herself than she already had. The people of the office, muggles all, were staring at her in complete befuddlement, as if they had never seen the like of a British person before.

Her eyes graced over the sweat-stained back of Agent Henrickson, whose profile Misty had read out loud as Rose dressed. He had encountered the brothers before and firmly believed they were murderous Satanists with bad attitudes.

_Five minutes, I was gone for five minutes. _To grab supplies as they waited for any further sign of Bela. They must have caught a scent she'd missed, and bolted like hounds to a hare. _Getting them caught while at it. _

Rose couldn't imagine how Dean or Sam could be so stupid, forcing Rose to lay her and Misty's arse on the line to save their sorry hides. _They owe me big time._ She thought, keeping her face straight. A bad feeling hung in the air. Something was coming. Something knew the brothers were here.

Henrickson slammed the phone back in its place and spun around, tossing the badge back in her hand. "You have to be kidding me."

_Misty did well. _Rose never doubted her friend's abilities. "Are you going to allow me a look at my fugitives, Agent?" Rose asked stuffing the badge in her pocket.

_Thump, thump, thump. _Rose ears' twitched at the sound of helicopter blades.

The sheriff swore by the door. "We don't have a landing pad!"

Henrickson, momentarily distracted, ran outside, grabbing the sheriff by his shoulder. "Clear the damn driveway then!"

Rose winked at the brown haired woman at the desk and ducked into the holding cell area, closing the door firmly behind her. Dean was looking up at the window; Sam had his face in his hands.

"Five minutes." Rose said with a shake of her head. "You couldn't have waited five minutes."

"Rose?" Dean launched himself from the bed, his feet catching a length of the chain. He fell to the concrete, hissing obscenities. Sam's approach was more cautious.

"How did you get in here?" He asked, tilting his head. Rose showed him the Scotland Yard badge, transfigured from an old driving permit Misty scrounged up. "They believed this?"

"Funny how you muggle's rely on computers to tell the truth. Misty summoned some pretty interesting background on you two. Just a warning, I'd stay clear of jolly old England in the future. They want you for murder."

"So are you going to pop us out of here or what?" Dean asked as he scrambled to his feet, rubbing his knees. "Don't get me wrong, this place has got some fine hospitality, but it's certainly not the Hilton."

_The helicopter. _The sound of blades cutting the air had stopped. They were going to move the Winchester's to a more secure location. "I don't have much time." Rose said, watching the door. "If I apparate out with both of you…The FBI will be looking for me too. They have my face. Misty will be in danger." _I can't allow that. _

Sam understood and backed toward the bed with tight nod. Dean narrowed his eyes. "So what _are _you going to do?"

Rose smiled. "Don't worry, Dean, I couldn't bear to see your pretty face locked away. I need more time to come up with a solid plan. One that won't bring the wrath of the Muggle government on our arses." Footsteps and raised male voices jolted her from Dean's gaze. "I need to go. I have a cover to keep." She pointed at both of them. "You don't know me, understand?"

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, rearranging her features into a bored expression.

The door rolled shut and a new man approached, smiling as he beheld the brothers in their cage. His eyes were as black as his thinning hair and he walked with authority, keenly displaying the badge at his waist alongside the muggle handgun. Rose stayed still. The man didn't notice her. "Sam and Dean Winchester. I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves. This is a pleasure."

Dean kept his eyes off Rose, respecting her caution. "Well, glad one of us feels that way."

It was hard to see in the dark of the cell block, but there was something _wrong _with the deputy director. A shadow on his face, as smug as the smile and the dark glint in his eyes.. There was a subtle shift in his position, a hand reaching across his stomach toward the gun at his hip. _Demon. _

"I've been waiting a long time before…" Rose launched herself forward, catching the fired bullet in her arm before the demon could finish his sentence. Dean yelled as Rose tumbled onto Groves, huffing with pain and yanking the gun from his hand. She landed a punch on his nose and a knee in his groin before ripping out her wand and stabbing him in the neck.

The demon, subdued, stared at her with wide eyes. "You."

"Me." Rose said, gritting her teeth. "Move and you die."

"We've been looking for you." The demon said, spittle shooting from his mouth. "Whore, traitor."

"I never owed any allegiance to your kind." Rose reminded, digging her wand into his soft flesh. She longed to fire a blasting curse and eviscerate his ugly face over the concrete. She could feel the stillness of the muggle's heart underneath her knee. The meat suit had died long ago, nothing but a stain on the universe would be lost. "Who else knows that Dean and Sam are here? Who have you told?"

Steven opened his mouth and screamed black smoke. The vessel slumped to the floor, vacant.

The clatter of rubber on laminate caused Rose to turn, tucking her wand into her sleeve. She noticed a dark hole in the upper arm of her jacket, and realized, a bit blankly, that she was bleeding.

Dean clutched the bars and didn't move as the entire office tumbled in, guns drawn.

The cops were ready to put another bullet in Rose as Henrickson kicked the Winchester's back and checked Steven's pulse. Finding nothing, he rounded on Rose, who clutched her arm with a bloody hand.

"He shot me." She explained. "He's probably been dead for months." Henrickson took in her words as he scanned the body. There was no visible sign of injury on the Deputy Director.

"What happened?" Henrickson demanded.

"I was discussing the situation with the fugitives and then he came in and shot me in the arm. Who is he? I've never seen him before in my life, right bastard." The muscle seized and the witch flinched. _Why is it always me? _ "Look, you've got something I can take the bullet out with?" _Gun shots can be healed with a small application of dittany once the projectile is removed. _

Henrickson stared at her arm and shook his head. "Fire up the chopper. We're taking them out of here right now." Reidy nodded and murmured a command into his radio. He jerked a thumb at Melvin to holster his gun. "Get her the first aid kit. We've got a little extra weight for the way out."

"Idiot." Rose muttered. Henrickson paused, his gaze dark.

"What'd you just call me?"

"Idiot." Rose repeated a little louder. "Muggle. You have no idea what's happening. They're coming for the Winchesters and you are going to get us all killed."

"Who's coming?" Henrickson asked.

Reidy swore and tried the walkie again, his voice rising. "Bill? Bill, are you there?" Henrickson danced from scene to scene, his face scrunching up in confusion. He nodded for Reidy to check outside.

"Who's coming?" the agent repeated as Rose struggled to her feet. Melvin reappeared with a white box labeled with a bright red cross. He clicked open the lock and with shaking hands gave the witch a pair of tweezers. She raised an eyebrow at the tool.

"Thanks." Rose said, barely biting back sarcasm. _So advanced, these muggles. _"Your boss was possessed, Agent Henrickson. By a demon, specifically. He just went to call his friends."

"You are insane."

"Quite sane, actually. Perhaps my government and yours have a different education on the ways of the world." _Not untrue. _"I was here on a classified operation to take Dean and Sam into protective custody, where they will be safe."

"This is not the X-Files." Henrickson growled.

"That's very well, Agent." An explosion rocked the air and the building groaned and shuddered in protest.

"What the hell was that?!"Henrickson yelled. He pressed the button on his radio as Dean and Sam looked on in shock. "Reidy! Reidy! What the hell was that? Come in! Reidy?! Reidy?!" There was no answer on the other side.

"Merlin." Rose breathed. "Fuck this." She retrieved her wand from her sleeve and pointed it at the wound in her arm. "_Accio _bullet." With a tear of flesh the pellet shot out and clattered to the floor. "_Vulnera Sanentur." _ The witch hissed as the hole knitted together and formed a small, radial scar. "_Reparo." _ The gash in the leather fused seamlessly, as if nothing had happened. Melvin, who was still holding the first aid kit, began to shiver uncontrollably and he dropped the box to the ground. Rose rolled her eyes, tired of playing around with the fragile lucidity of muggles.

Henrickson stormed out the cell block and into the office. Melvin and Phil followed, keeping their eyes on Rose. The witch waited for them to leave, feeling worried and still. _I knew something was coming. _She could feel it in her bones, the approaching storm sending an ache in her teeth. Rose waved her wand and the cell door creaked open. "I think that was your ride boys. It's too late for a clean job now." The chains fell away at their feet. Sam rubbed his wrists and Dean rushed to her side, gently cradling her arm.

"You alright?"

"Fit as a French flying horse. I'll be fine. What we need to talk about is getting through the night." She looked at Sam. The younger Winchester nodded.

"If we leave now, we are abandoning these people to the demons." The tall hunter finished. Dean grimaced, sensing the truth in the conclusion.

"So what are we going to do? Can you set up some kind of ward?"

Rose was pleased that Dean was finally starting to see her magic as useful. "I've been working on some things, applying research, but I'd look for salt and spray paint, just in case."

"It's weird, huh? They're coming right for us. They haven't done that before." Dean said, smiling. "It's like we got a contract on us. You think it's because we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause we're so awesome."

Rose matched Sam's best 'I am not amused' face. Dean's smile fell away, and Rose wasn't sure if she was happy to see it go. Henrickson walked in from the commotion in the office. Rose raised her wand, knowing it wouldn't be very intimidating to the man holding the gun.

"What the hell are you doing?" The Agent shouted. "You can't let them out!"

"Really?" Rose said, keeping her voice even and calm. Panic wouldn't help the situation. _No matter how greatly I want to throw my arms up in the air and run away._ "I just did. I don't think you really understand the gravity of the situation, Agent. People are dead. More people are probably going to die if you don't pull your head out of your arse."

He pointed the gun at her; Rose kept her position as Dean raised his hands and took a step forward. "Wow now."

"Shut up." Henrickson snapped. "Get back in your cell."

"Don't move, Dean, Sam. "Rose commanded.

Henrickson shook his head. "Is this what you want then? Is this your plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you three out? That what your little bitch is for?"

"Scotland Yard, Agent, I'd watch your tongue."

"Don't hand me bullshit and expect me to eat it." The light shifted with the features of his face, and Rose took a step back.

"Merlin's Beard." Rose cursed. "Get out of him. Now."

Dean looked from the agent to Rose and back again, realization hitting him like a hammer. "He's possessed. Son of a…Rose!"

The witch ignored his warning and dropped to the floor, dodging the demon's shot and firing a stunning spell. The agent twisted away from the bolt of energy and fired again. The bullet pinged off the concrete wall, spraying dust and sparks.

"_Expelliarmus!" _The pistol ripped out his hand and went spinning into the hall. Rose summoned chains, and they bound his arms to his chest, slithering with eerie life to hobble his feet. Henrickson struggled, his eyes saturated with black.

"Whore!" He shouted. Rose rolled her eyes.

"You scum need to look up some original insults. Sam, do the honors? I'll keep him in the naughty chair."

Sam recovered from his shock and began chanting the exorcism. The demon's head whipped back and forth, its lips twisting into a snarl. "I will rip out your eyes and feed them to the crows. I will use your intestines for my belt and your liver for my hat."

"_Langlock." _ The demon gagged, tongue glued to its hard palate. Sam stumbled over the Latin. "I hate it when you guys talk." Rose sighed. The smoke began to pour from Henrickson's mouth and pool at his feet. The demon disappeared with a crackle of red energy. The malice faded from the agent's features and he collapsed against the chains.

"Victor?" Rose asked as she vanished the bindings and ended langlock. The agent blinked, shaking his head as his mind retook control.

"I…I…"

"You're alright, Agent. You were possessed."

"Possessed…like 'possessed' possessed?"

Rose nodded, and held out a hand. He took it, his legs shaking as he stepped up from the charred circle where the demon had returned to hell.

"Feels like crap, huh?" Dean asked. Henrickson seemed dazed, licking his lips, staring at the floor, his hands, and the wand in Rose's hand.

"I…I shot at you."

The gun shot into Rose's hand and she gave it back to the agent. "I'm fine."

"You…you…"

"It's called a witch, Agent. But I'm not the one you need to be afraid of."

Henrickson seemed to gather himself, assessing the situation with a forced sense of calm. "All right. How do we survive?"

* * *

_"Demons." _Nancy whispered to Phil, who shrugged as he prepared a shotgun.

"Agent says it's true."

Rose eavesdropped on the pair as she walked around the boundaries of the runes, muttering the Latin incantation of exorcism. The runes hissed and crackled as they were burned into the floor, a glowing band of woven magic. Any demon who crossed the line would find themselves deported straight back to hell, leaving the meat suit behind.

"What's she doing?" Nancy whispered, doe eyes following Rose. The witch pretended not to notice the attention.

"Laying down some kind of force field I guess." Phil shrugged, setting down the gun and picking up another. Rose connected the end of the line with the beginning, and the room burst with white light.

The occupants cried out and covered their eyes. Rose waved her wand and the light dimmed. "Sorry." The witch said with a meek smile. "Haven't done a ward this large before. The Arithmancy balances must be incredible."

Henrickson blinked floaters from his eye and pinned Rose with a withering glare. "Just announce our presence, will you?"

"I'm sure they know exactly where we are." Rose shot back. Dean looked up from his map, raising his eyebrows at the arsenal before Melvin and Henrikson.

"Well that's nice. It's not gonna do much good."

The sheriff uttered a protest. _Take a gun away from a muggle and they become an ape with a rock. _Rose thought as she approached the Winchester. Dean shook his head. "You don't poke a bear with a BB gun. That's just gonna make them mad. Whatcha got, Rose?"

"We're going to need salt, lots of it." Rose said. "I can't transfigure something and keep its magical properties, so we are going to need the real thing."

"There's road salt in the storeroom." Nancy piped, sounding relieved to be of some help.

"Perfect, we need it at every window and door." Henrickson, Melvin, and Phil left. Dean patted her on the shoulder.

"You're good at this kind of thing."

Rose smiled and bumped his arm with hers. "You don't know much about me, Dean. I earned a Sergeant status; I directed a team for two years after the Academy." _Until I broke orders and got people killed. Merlin please let me save these people. _"Misty's going to know that the power went out. She might send help."

"How? Is there any way to contact her?" Dean asked.

Rose held up the galleon from her pocket. "Unfortunately, I gave the other one to you."

Dean frowned and fished through his pocket. "Damn, I'd forget about this."

_Yet you keep it in your pocket at all times. Were you holding it, Dean, when they came with guns? _She smiled and placed hers back into her pocket. "Misty doesn't need to be a part of this. We are strong independent hunters. This night will not be our end."

Dean covered her hand with his. "I promise."

Nancy cleared her throat and Rose jumped away from Dean, blushing deeply and turning away. Dean coughed and stood straight, blinking. "How you holdin' up Nancy?"

"Fine. When I was little I would come home from church and talk about the devil. My parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?" She paused, and nodded toward Rose, lowering her voice. "Is she some kind of angel?"

"Nah," Dean replied with amusement. "She's a witch."

"Oh." Nancy stepped back and clutched her rosary beads. "I thought…"

"Don't worry…She's from the North not the West."

"So she's…"

"The best." Dean said and Phil appeared, carrying bags of salt. "Where's my car?"

"Impound lot out back."

Rose turned, glaring at the hunter. "You are not going out there."

"I need to get something out of my trunk." Dean shrugged and grabbed a gun.

The witch stepped between him and the door. "No Dean."

"Yes Rose." He gritted, shoving her aside. Rose grabbed the end of the shot gun and ripped it away. It clattered over the floor. She snatched his hand and they snapped out of sight, leaving a very baffled Nancy and Phil behind.

* * *

Dust billowed around their feet as Rose and Dean apparated next to the Impala. Dean coughed and gagged, spitting bile onto the ground. "What. The. Hell."

"Quickly Dean." She eyed the horizon, gripping her wand with white knuckles. They were very exposed out in the lot.

Groaning he fiddled with the keys and opened the truck. The lights of the gas station just across the road flickered ominously; the night was swallowed by thick, black smoke crackling with blue lightning. Dean shoved things in his bag. "Can you do that a little faster?" Rose muttered.

"Can you stall them?" Dean shot back. Her breath steamed in the air, the lamps began to sputtered and spark.

"I might have an idea…but I haven't tested it yet."

"Do it." Dean said without looking up. Rose squared her feet and summoned every scrap of courage she had left. Rose pictured her mother, her father, and her brother Hugo. There was laughter on their faces as they shared a meal, an ordinary meal. Her parents had returned from work and Hugo had a tiny scrap on his chin, where he had fallen off his broom. Happiness swelled in her, and Rose pointed her wand at the approaching black smoke.

_"Expecto Patronum!" _ A silver unicorn formed before her, almost too bright to behold. With an unspoken command the unicorn launched itself at the approaching cloud, horn lowered in a deadly charge.

The energies clashed with a sound like thunder, and the windows of the nearby car burst into a thousand pieces.

When the world settled, both the unicorn and the demon were gone. Rose lowered her wand, and a grin tugged at her mouth. "Awesome."

"Jesus." Dean shut the trunk of the Impala. "What was that?"

"I think the magical equivalent of anti-matter and matter colliding, but I do not know much about your muggle physics." Rose frowned, caught up in the question. There was no reason why it should have worked. Demons, after all, were warped human souls. Not Dementors or Levifolds.

Dean's hands on hers pulled her from her thoughts. "Come on; beam us out of here, Scotty." Rose twisted and they appeared back into the office. Sam and Agent Henrickson were talking over the building blueprints. Dean tossed the bag onto the desk, swallowing the nausea from sidelong apparatation. "They are coming."

Sam stared around the ceiling, and the howl of wind picked up, slamming into the windows and walls, trying to find a way in. Dean began handing out small necklaces on red thread, explaining there anti-possession properties.

"Rose." Sam said tensely. "Do you _know _your ward works?"

"In theory." Rose said, feeling very small.

"What about that unicorn thin?" Dean asked. "Can you summon it again?"

"Yes." Rose said. "But it takes concentration…and that outburst indoors might be devastating."

"What are you talking about?" Sam looked between them as the building trembled. Nancy suppressed a small cry of fear and clutched her necklace.

The warm feeling of family welled inside of her. "_Expecto Patronum." _The unicorn spilled onto the floor in a bundle of silver energy. It cantered around the edge of the ward until it stopped in front of Rose and the boys. Sam tried to touch its head, but his hand passed through with a swirl of mist.

"It's beautiful." Nancy whispered her eyes bright. Rose smiled.

"Thanks."

"A unicorn." Sam breathed. "Why is it a unicorn?"

"I don't know. They were always my favorite creatures. I had a very profound connection with the resident Hogwarts herd." She closed her eyes, remembering autumn afternoons under the canopy of the Forbidden forest, watching golden colts tumble over still-green moss.

"Wait," Dean smashed through her memories with an iron hammer. "You're telling me unicorns are real?"

Rose opened her eyes. "In my world, yes. Yours…I'm not sure yet, however this isn't really the appropriate conversation at the moment.

Dean picked up one of the bags. It clanked. "I'm going to go fill the shotguns. Henrickson?"

The Agent nodded and they head to the Sherriff's office. Rose faced Nancy, who was brushing her hand hesitantly through the body of her Patronus. Its only response was a shake of its mane. "You like it?"

"It feels so…"

"Light?" Rose flicked her wand and the unicorn began to circle the edge of the ward. "The Patronus charm consists of your happiest memories, all of your strongest, positive emotions. It's the best of us."

"I wish I had one." Nancy sighed. "But…"

"You do." Rose said, and touched the woman on the chest, just above her heart. "It's in here. You don't need magic or special abilities to be brave. The best of you is within yourself, and it is in your choices, not your abilities, where you find it."

"Thank you." Rose sensed the woman didn't quite believe her. Rose didn't mind, when demons were knocking at the door, it took a little more than a pep talk to raise the spirits. A crash in the back room jolted Rose from her brood and sent her into a run. Henrickson and Dean were right behind, cocking salt-loaded shock guns.

Rose stopped flat when she noticed the broken window and the blond woman standing amongst shattered glass, her face bloody and worn. The demon inside, however, roiled with health.

The witch snarled and raised her wand, firing a stunning spell before she could react to Sam's protesting shout. The blonde spun away and the spell hit the floor, breaking the line of the devil's trap.

"She's here to help!" Sam said, knocking Rose's arm down. Rose stuck out a leg, catching the tall hunter off balance and sending him to the floor.

"She's a bloody demon." Rose barked, firing another stunner. The woman leapt on top of the table to avoid the blast, kicking an empty soda can across the room.

"Stop!" She yelled. Rose didn't listen, didn't _want_ to listen. Hatred boiled in her gut and she fired, spell after spell, until a slicing heck caught the woman in the shoulder and sent her spinning into the vending machine. With a wave its legs were bound with ropes that tightened painfully on her flesh. Rose summoned her knife from Sam's belt and caught it with an open hand, pressing the blade into the blonde woman's throat.

"I can see your true face. _Good _doesn't look that ugly." Rose hissed through gritted teeth. Sam scattered broken glass as he got to his feet. "The only reason my knife isn't sawing through your throat is that giant man over there, so you better start talking."

"You're the witch." The blonde demon said her voice low and sarcastic. Her shoulder was bleeding, but she showed no sign of pain. "I've heard a lot about you. Get your rocks off sticking that in many of my kind's guts, don't you? How many demons have you killed? Seven? Twenty?"

"Fifteen." Rose corrected. "And I can name the vessels of every single one of them, so you shut your mouth before I turn your tongue into a toad and make you eat it."  
"You burn bright." The demon retorted. "I can't really tell what you are…and that weirds me out. See, I can see your face like you see mine, and I'm not looking at someone fully human."

Rose threw away her words. Demons lied as quickly as they told the truth, and it was a waste of time trying to decipher which was which. She pressed the knife harder, drawing blood. The blonde grimaced and orange sizzled along the blade.

"Rose." Sam said gently, his hands out as if he was approaching a wild animal. "Ruby's here to help us."

"Demons don't help, Sam. They lie, cheat, and chatter on about their plans and their intentions.. They are the worst of humanity, all of the bad and the horrible and the fear bundled into a nice, pretty package. Whatever human thing you see in her is false. Whatever she has said to make you think she's on your side is a lie."

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "Prove that in open court."

"Sure." Rose jammed her knee into the blonde stomach and shoved her onto the ground. "Judge, jury, and executioner. Let's hear your plea."

The knife was yanked from her hand and Rose found herself pressed against the wall by Dean's strong arm. "Enough." He breathed in her ear. "Calm down, now. We don't need this."

"You can't believe her." _He can't trust a demon. Not Dean, please not Dean. _

"No." The hunter said, and relief rushed through her veins. "But Sam does, and I have to live with him, so you need to stow the wand and leave the cat fight for later."

"I _can see her true face." _Rose whispered. _"She's wrong, Dean. Every part of her is wrong." _

"I know." The hunter let her down and Rose's boots touched the floor. Ruby had left with Sam; Rose could still hear the echo of heels on the floor. The window flew back together and the salt spread evenly. Dean applied spray paint to the gap in the devil's trap.

A scream echoed from the other room. _Nancy. _ Rose raced from the room only to find Ruby balancing precariously at the edge of the office ward.

The blonde looked up at her in horror. "What is this?"

"An exorcism." Rose was unwilling to hide her smugness. "Bound in runes and tied with magic. Thank you…I wasn't sure it worked."

Sam pushed Ruby away from the runes. He turned to Rose. "You are going to have to break it."

"No." Rose said, crossing her arms. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. Not for your hag-face girlfriend certainly. The magic has been bound. To destroy the ward would be to detonate a small bomb in this office."

"I'm going to have Satan markings in my office forever?" The sheriff whined behind her, his hands on his hips.

"Not the time." Dean growled and smiled at Ruby. She glared from the doorway of the backroom; her arms cross over her chest. Her focus was directed solely on Rose. .

"Frankly I'm glad you can't come in."

The witch resisted sticking out her tongue and waggling her butt. It took great will. "So." Rose gathered all of her maturity to talk civilly to the demon. "How many demons are out there?"

"Twenty-five and counting." The demon replied. "Seemed your little display of power knocked a few out of the ball park."

"Where is the unicorn?" Nancy asked looking around the office.

"Keeping the Patronus requires a certain degree of focus." Rose supplied, "I lost it."

The demon cocked her head. "You're no kind of witch I know. No contract, no blood rights. Almost as if…you were born with your power. That can't be."

"Why?" Rose mocked. "Is it a blasphemy against God?"

"God doesn't exist." The demon said, almost too quickly. Rose narrowed her eyes. _Typical. _

Dean cleared his throat. "Ladies…Ladies. Keep the claws inside the paws. Are we going to talk about who sent these sons of a bitches?"

"Ooh, I'm surprised." Ruby purred, looking up at Sam

"Tell me what?" Dean asked.

"There's a big new up and comer. A real pied piper." Ruby nodded at Rose as Sam shifted uneasily. "And she's real interested in you, Rosie. Something about what you can do tickles her fancy."

"She can keep her fancy, thank you very much." Rose said. "And who's this 'she' precisely?"

"Lilith, her name's Lilith."

_Lilith. _Rose scanned her memory for all the passages she had ever come across that mentioned the name. _A female demon that flies around seducing men and killing newborn children. _"Adam's first wife?" She blurted in bafflement.

Ruby laughed. "So you know your Jewish fairy tales."

_I suppose she means the Torah. _"In Muslim tradition she coupled with Satan and produced the Djinn. In punishment, God killed some of her children every day. This is the demon that want's Sam dead? A glorified succubus?"

Something akin to anger flashed across both of Ruby's faces. "Perhaps you should give her more respect, considering the situation."

Dean held out both his hands, sighing in exasperation. "We need to return to the point."

"Yeah." Henrickson piped. "Like how are we going to get out this alive?"

"We'll need the colt." Ruby said, glaring at Rose one last time before turning back to the brothers. Sam didn't meet her eyes. Dean looked down at his hands. After the thunderstorm of their arrival, the demons' silence was eerie and Rose had to resist the urge to pace. She wished he had a whole team of Aurors to back her up or just one another witch raise her wands with hers. _Mum, where are you? _"Where's the colt?"

"It got stolen." Sam said.

The demon stood straighter, backing away from the brother as her face flashed with anger. "I'm sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy…"

"We are safe behind the wards." Rose interrupted Ruby's tirade. "They won't break. It doesn't block physical matter, it simply separates it." The witch smirked in the demons direction. "Painfully."  
"And what, we are going to live out our merry lives in this circle?" Ruby rolled her eyes. "I think not."

"And you have any suggestion?" Rose asked, tilting her head. She so very wanted to stick her knife into the bitch's chest. She was a glob of muck on the world, and Rose was in the mood for a little spring cleaning. _Looking into that face makes me sick. _The witch averted her eyes and swallowed back the contents of her stomach. _How can the Winchester's take it? _

_Because all they see is a pretty blonde. That is the way of the demons…dupe and destroy. You think muggles would have learned after five thousand years. _

"There is another way," Ruby said slowly. "I know a spell. It'll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How's that for a dying wish?"

"I'm not complaining." Rose said. "So what do we need to do?"

"You can't do anything. It calls for a person of virtue." Ruby looked from Rose to Dean.

The older Winchester nodded. "I've got virtue."

The demon chuckled. "Nice try. You are not a virgin."

Rose started, horror growing in her gut. "You're talking human sacrifice. Dark Magic." Her hand tightened around her wand. Everything…everything she had ever fought for. If the boys agreed she was done. She would abandon them to their fate in hell and turn her eyes away as they shrieked for help.

Ruby raised her eyebrows. "Demon, duh. All I do is Dark magic."

"If you attempt to kill an innocent soul, I will tear you apart." Rose hissed. "I will trap everything you are in a tiny jar and bury it deep in the earth, where only the worms will hear you scream. You understand me?"

"Who are you? The Morality Brigade?"

Rose stood taller, her jacket melting into her robes and the ground trembling beneath them. The witch couldn't remember the last time she had felt true wrath toward another creature. She wished she could simply reach out and remove Ruby's presence from the earth. "I am Auror Sergeant Rose Weasley. I took a vow to stand against Dark magic, to protect my people from evil, and honor those who died in the Wizarding Wars. Your presence defiles everything I stand for, and it is only out of respect for the Winchesters that I let you live."

A familiar hand on her back calmed Rose's excited nerves. Dean stood behind her, his eyes wide. "Rose…" The hunter began softly. "You're glowing."

Rose looked down at her fingers. White light shimmered around the edges of her skin. Rose blushed, and the luminescence faded into her skin. "Accidental magic. Sorry." Embarrassment grew in Rose and she looked away, uncomfortable in the silence encompassing the occupants of the office. The cops clutched their guns to their chest, wondering if they should shoot the witch or run away.

"I think we should continue about how we are going to live 'till morning." Henrickson continued.

"It's the only way." Ruby grumbled, but she seemed quelled by Rose's anger.

"What do we do?" Sam asked. "Rose? Dean?"

Dean shuffled his feet, looking down at the runes emblazoned underneath his feet. He glanced toward the doors…"I've got a plan. I'm not saying it's a good one. I'm not even saying it will work. But it sure as hell beats virgin sacrifice." The hunter avoided looking at Rose. The witch understood. If she correctly understood American muggle culture, she was probably the only 'person of virtue' in the room. "Okay, so, what's the plan?" Sam glanced toward the windows and the amassing demons with trepidation. They all felt it, the growing urge to run and the panic for having no place to run to. _Our only option is to fight, and if necessary, die fighting. _

"I need to talk to Rose first, in private."

* * *

Dean pulled her into the storage room and grabbed her shoulders, bending down to meet her in the eyes. "Can you get everyone out?"

"Apparition?" Rose asked, softly. "One by one, perhaps, and each time I grow weaker. Side-long apparition isn't easy. Short distances…sure, but nowhere long enough so the demons won't know. Each time I risk leaving something behind."

He flinched, and nodded. "I understand."

"One person." Rose said. "I can get one person out of here…but that won't get rid of the demons, and it won't save the people they are possessing."

"Nancy." Dean said without hesitation. "She doesn't belong here."

"Okay." Rose nodded and turned, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Five minutes, and then what?"

"Open the doors, let them all in and we fight."

* * *

Rose stood wrapped in shadows, as the Dean broke the lines of defense and the demons rushed in, eager for blood. She waited until the doors were shut behind them before planting her heels and raising her wand. "_Protego Horribilis!"_

The wind rushed past her, and her hair was carried with it, untangling from its bounds and smacking her in the face. The charm hit the building and exploded outward, warping the air until it shimmered like oil on water. _"Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Repello Inimicum! Protego Horribilis, Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Repello Inimicum!" _The ward shimmered and became more solid. Rose dropped and her knees hit the earth.

The effort was enough to drain all of her resources. _I left my knife with Sam. _Rose thought, closing her eyes. The screams of the demons inside and the sound of gunshots pinged off her mind. The witch could not summon the energy to be concerned. She trusted the hunters and their weapons to do what needed to be done. The demons could not leave the station. _The night is over. _She laid her head on the grass, her wand held loosely in her hand, and waited.

* * *

_Time to wake up, Rose. _

She jolted from her place on a small, hard bed. She was in a cell, her robe removed and placed on her body like a blanket. Dean leaned against the wall, looking harried as he crossed his arms.

Her shifting movement caused him to open his eyes and look down at her with a wearied smile. The smile of a soldier who had just won a battle. "Did anything get through?"

Dean shook his head. "We got you at sunrise. Your…shields fell…Jesus Rose; I saw what those did to the demons trying to escape. It was like War of the Worlds."

"I cannot use it as a weapon…understand?"

"Yes." He sat on the concrete with a groan, unfolding his long legs. "Sam and I wanted to wait before heading out of here. I didn't want you to wake somewhere else."

"Dean…" Rose said, and reached out, grabbing his hand. "We know her name now."

"Who?" The hunter asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"The demon that holds your contract. It's Lilith, and she's still coming for you. She knows you're here…even if just one got through…she knows."

His face clouded. "Putting all of these people in danger."

The witch nodded. "We need to get them out why we still can. Did we lose anybody?"

Dean heaved a sigh and a dark shadow passed behind his eyes. "The sheriff. He stepped over the ward…they tore him apart."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Nancy?"

"She's at the cabin. Henrickson, Phil, they can't stay here. They have to run, and run fast." She gestured for him to help her to her feet. He conceded, and Rose breathed out a sigh, touching the wand at her side for reassurance. "Now."

* * *

"Hello?" A little girl walked through the door of the office, her bright blue eyes staring at the mess of upturned desks and tossed chairs. The woman holding her hand grunted and stopped her sneakers from crossing the line of strange runes burned into the laminate.

The girl snarled, baring her pearly baby teeth, and her eyes rolled back into her head. A small hand rose, burning with white power.

* * *

Henrickson packed the gun into the bag and shook Dean's hand.

"What are you going to do?" the hunter asked.

The Agent shrugged. "Take a well needed vacation. How's Vancouver this time of the year?" Dean smirked and slapped his back.

"Enjoy it."

"Not for long." The man muttered, and left the hotel room, his eyes sunken and tired. "A hell of a story," He murmured.

Rose's phone buzzed in her pocket. The witch was so surprised, she nearly fell from her perch on the bed.

'_Turn on the TV.' _The text read, addressed from Misty.

Rose repeated the message to Dean and suddenly the brothers and the witch were staring at a mass of burning rumble and the spray from fire trucks. The faces of the Sherriff, Reidy, and the deputy director were plastered over the seen and an anonymous spokesperson read off their names.

"She came." Sam breathed. "Oh god, if they were in there..." The trio stood in silence, the fear of what could-have-been crawling up their throats.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks again to my beta reader SPNxBookworm and all my reviewers/readers. (I am sorry to have no Bela/Rose showdown as you were all hoping; however, her presence was limited in Jus In Belo." If you have any comments, questions, or critiques, leave a review.


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